Ties to the Past
by Shall-Iin
Summary: An old friend of Logan's is in need of his help. Trouble follows her every step, and Logan's past plays a part. Is it too much for Logan and the Xmen to handle? Who can help when the world's mightiest mutants are in danger of loosing it all? Old enemies,
1. Chapter 1

Here's a new story Idea I had. I was roadblocked in my others, and this one will be low priority, but here goes anything.

The characters written about within this story are fictional and all rights are owned by the creators and publishers. I simply came up with the idea of combining their worlds and the mannerisms I saw for their characters. I hope you enjoy

Chapter 1

Ian Nottingham frowned as he watched the rough looking man make his way up the stoop and into the building. He knew the man was visiting the object of his surveilance, Detective Sara Pezzini. He didn't understand how he knew, but he could see no other reason for such a powerful presence to visit this particular building. None of the good detective's neighbours would be of any interest to a man who was so obviously suited to combat and strife. The man's whole bearing told of a warrior who had seen many battles and lost few. Ian suspected that the man might be a match for himself, and if not for the genetic and chemical therapies he'd endured as a child, would be more than a match for him.

All these thoughts and observations took place in a few seconds, as the man disembarked a custom motorcycle the likes of which he had never seen, and took the few steps into the building, pausing only to buzz an apartment. Ian took the time to note that it was indeed his beloved Sara's home that was rung before making his way by the roof top to his customary place across the alley looking into Sara's living room. His cell phone went off in his pocket and he felt a moments irritation at his master, for he knew that it was his master as only he had the number for this phone.

"Yes, master?" he stated calmly, no hint of his irritation coloring his tone. He had learned many hard lessons under his master's tutelage, the main lesson being control: both physical and emotional control of self and others.

"What is the detective doing at the moment, young Nottingham?" the cool controlled voice of Kenneth Irons demanded over the multiply scrambled line.

"She is currently awaiting the arrival of a visitor, master. Someone who exudes an aura of strength and skill. I do not like this, master. He could be a threat to you." Ian stated, attempting to use his master's vanity and ego to his own ends. It was true that he didn't like the man who was currently manouvering himself up the five flights of stairs to Sara's loft, but it had little to do with any threat to his master. Rather, the man was a walking, breathing example of male perfection and Ian felt, for the first time, that most dangerous of emotions: jealousy. It was true that he had disliked Conchobar, and had very little tolerance for the exuberant and misleading Jake McCarty or any of Sara's other interests since he had met her, but he had felt no threat from any of them, knowing more about their character than Sara would.

He knew that Sara would never seriously consider McCarty as a romantic interest, even without knowing the secrets he withheld. And Conchobar's destiny had lain elsewhere. He would have eventually turned from Sara, as he had in so many lifetimes before, or he would be doomed to die. But this man, whoever he was, was not someone with whom he was familiar and was exactly the type of man Sara had shown a previous attraction to. He looked ruff, hard living and spoiling for a fight. The textbook example of masculine aggression and behaviour.

Irons voice brought him out of his reverie. "Describe the man, Ian."

"About 5'10" - 6'. Dark hair, almost blueish tinge. Unshaven, smells of cheap cigars and expensive alcohol. Wearing jeans, a black muscle shirt, and leather jacket. His hair is styled oddly, framing his hair in three points to the rear, exposing a lot of temple, but it is not an affect of balding. It seems natural. He has a feral expression, looking quite annoyed to find himself here for some reason. Age is impossible to tell, but looks somewhere between 25-35. When he dismounted the motorcycle, he rubbed his knuckles and looked around, passing over my hiding spot and muttering to himself. He appears quite unsavory, master, and I wonder what business he has in Detective Pezzini's home."

For the first time in a long time, Ian winced as he heard his master emit several swears in a dozen languages. He waited patiently, knowing full well his master would regain control any second now.

Irons' voice came back on the line, only a vague hint of his anger betraying his cool tones. "Return immediately. I must plan carefully."

Ian stood and made to close the phone before his master's voice interupted his actions once again.

"Tell me Ian, could you tell if he was wearing dogtags?"

Ian frowned as he considered his observations of the man. With Irons information regarding dogtags, he could see the faint after affects of military training coloring the man's bearing. He could not recall seeing dogtags or their outline through the rather tight shirt, nor had he heard them. "There were no dogtags, master."

"Then return here immediately. Do not tarry, Ian." The dead phone in his hands was the only clue that Irons had hung up.

Replacing the phone in his pocket, he took a second to look into Sara's window, just in tiem to see her open the door and throw her arms around the man. Gritting his teeth in rage, he began the rooftop leaps to his vehicle, which was parked three blocks away. He made a promise to himself to learn everything he could about this man that would so anger, and perhaps even frighten his master. So that he could end his existence.

BREAK

Logan grinned as his enhanced senses allowed him to pick up the person standing in the shadows atop the brownstone building he had parked in front of. Casually, he scanned the area after sliding off his souped up bike. He easily spotted the shadowy figure hiding in a pocket most would doubt any one but a child would fit. He continued to scan the area, showing no trace that he had sighted of the figure. He tuned his hearing to the man's heart beat and rung the buzzer. He was buzzed in immediately. He entered and began the trek up the stairs.

There were a few moments when he lost the heartbeat among the sounds of the occupants of the building, but he was able to pick it up again. He noted only a slight rise as the man moved from his position in front of the building to the rooftop across the alley in the back of this building. He already knew where the man was going, as he was heading to visit an old acquantaince who had called him up to ask for his help in dealing with the man.

He reached the door of his friend and knocked, not having to wait long for the door to open.

"Logan!" the occupant screamed, throwing her arms around his neck in a bone cracking hug.

He returned the hug, grunting at the surprising strength she now displayed. "Good to see ya,Sara. How you been, darlin' ?"

Sara Pezzini pulled away from the man, taking a good look at him. "I'd say not bad, but things pretty much suck right now. That's why I called. I've been having a few problems lately and I needed someone I could trust to watch my back. I'm actually surprised I was able to get in touch. I hadn't heard from you in so long, I thought you had disappeared or died or something. Then I got a message from some high end Westchester private school with your name on it. Hard to believe it's been 20 years. You don't look any different at all."

Logan tossed his jacket over the back of a chair and collapsed on the couch, gesturing for Sara to sit across from him in the comfy looking chair. "Well darlin', I had a few problems of my own. I don't want to get in to it, but there are a lot of shitty people out there. As for the age thing, well, I'm a mutant. That goes with what happened to me and why I disappeared. See, I'm what they call a regenerative. A fancy word meaning I heal from almost anything. Including old age. Hell, the people who screwed me over fucked with my head. I don't remember most of my life from more than about 15 years ago.

Just recently, I've been having some help trying to get those memories back, and that's when you came in. I still don't remember everything, but I remember enough to know that I owed your dad and your mom a lot for something that happened long before you were born. So, soon as I remembered you, I had some friends start searching for you, then mailed you my contact info. I was actually surprised to hear back from you. Especially to have you ask me for help."

Sara shook her head, wondering what her father's friend had been through that could strip his mind so clean. Her wrist warmed and she glanced down at the jewelled bracelet that was so much more. 'Not now, please Witchy. Show me later, okay?' she begged of the ancient sentient weapon. There was a slight flare heat and a swirl of deeper red in the jewel, before the bracelet grew quiet on her wrist. 'Thanks, Witchy. I'll make sure to polish you with the best solution I can find.' She turned her mind away from the object of many of her problems back to the task at hand.

"You're a mutant? I didn't know that." she stated. "Did dad know?"

Logan nodded. "Yup. Of course, back then, no one knew what a mutant was or what it meant. All he knew was that I was different. He saw me get stabbed a dozen times and came to help me. That's how we really met, when he was a rookie. I was at a . . .well, let's just say it was not a nice place. I pissed off some people who didn't like how easily I was able to beat them and they and some friends decided to follow me and teach me a lesson. I would have been able to handle muself, but one of them had this new stuff that they sprayed into my face. Everyone has it now, but back then mace was pretty new. After that, well, there were about 7 of them and they were working me over pretty good when your father and Joe Siri noticed the commotion in the alley and ran in to help. Like all punks, the thugs beat it at the sight of a pair of blues coming down the alley, not even thinking about taking them on. Not like it is today, were every punk and wannabe thinks they can blow a blue away with no problems." Logan leaned back against the couch as the freshly returned memories played loosely in his mind. "No cell phones then either, and their talkies weren't working, so Sirri went to look for a phone while your pop tried to staunch the bleeding. Imagine his surprise when I started healing and he could see the tissues and skin joining together. So I woke after a few minutes to find him starring at me and at the blood that I'd lost, and I asked him what the problem was.

He said that he couldn't believe his eyes and asked me what I was. I gave some smartass answer and then nodded behind him. Being a rookie, he turned, and that gave me the chance to slip away. But something about him attracted my attention and I spent the rest of the night folliwing him and Sirri around as they did their beat. Then I followed him home. A few days later, I arranged to meet with him as he finished his shift and invited him for a beer. Soon, we were palling around. He never asked what I did and I never offered any info that might make him regret being my friend. Occassionally, I would hear of some deal going on and pass him the info, but mostly, we didn't talk about work. Guys stuff, like booze, sports, and babes. Not that your pop ever even thought of going out on your mom, but guys just like to talk, you know?"

Sara shook her head. It had been a long time since she had had a chance to sit and talk about her father. They had been fairly close and she had loved him, but he had always been a little reluctant to talk much about what life with her mother was like before they had adopted her. She had later learned from Marie, Joe's wife, that her mother had suffered through several miscarriages before they learned that she was unable to carry a child to term and they had decided to adopt. It was good to hear that her father had had other interests besides the job, something that she herself sometimes struggled with.

"Sure, girls talk to, Logan. But I do need your help. You didn't happen to notice anyone outside, did you? Or feel like you were being watched?"

Logan smirked. "You mean the tall guy, about 6'2" black hair, wearing all black, even leather gloves. Has a blond streak in his hair- natural not dyed. Jumps around on rooftops as easily as you climb the stairs? Carrying a lot of firepower for someone not in the middle of a gang war. Has extensive martial arts and military training. Has the hots for you and don't like me. That the guy who's following you?"

Sara blinked. She hadn't expected that kind of a detailed report about her stalker. "Did he say anything to you? Usually, he stays in the shadows, but how could you describe him so well without even speaking to him."

Logan tapped the bridge of his nose. "Enhanced healing also comes with enhanced senses. I hear, smell, see more that other people. He was hidden very well in the shadows, but not well enough to escape my enhanced sight and hearing. I could smell the gun oil and powder of his weapons, a few of which have been recently fired and not cleaned. His whole manner while standing in the shadows was of someone who was familiar with their body and could maximism his movements and the effects of a blow from any position. That shows he's had a lot of training in fighting and in tactics. I could hear him as he moved from the front of the building to the roof just out your window there. His hearbeat barely sped up at all, also indicating that he is in excellent health and superb condition. I can understand why you're worried about him. It's not too often a weapon like him is sent to watch someone like you. So who's the guy who set him to watch you? He might have the hots for you, but his whole manner screams that someone else pulls his strings, and keeps him under a very tight leash."

Sara shook her head, standing and pacing slightly. She sorted through her thoughts, trying to figure out what to tell Logan and what to hold back. She paused as she reached a desicion. "Look, this is going to take a while, you want a beer?" she asked as she moved to her fridge and pulled one out for herself. Seeing him nod, she tossed him the bottle and took out a second for herself, noting again that someone had restocked the fridge and cupboards with all her favorite foods.

"The guy pulling the strings is Kenneth Irons. Some whacked out billionaire obsessed with the past and what he calls 'Objects of power'. One of these objects is this, " she removed the Witchblade and set it on the counter, moving a foot or two away. She held out her wrist and the blade flew back onto her arm, tightening slightly and glowing sullenly. "This is the Witchblade. Looks like any other extremely rare and valuable piece of jewelry, but it is much more." She willed the gauntlet to shift forms into the sword, then the knuckle protectors and finally the stilleto.

"I'm not sure how many other things it can do, but it is old and powerful and has a mind of its own. Throughout history it has been worn by woman who have become legends. Cathain, Cleopatra, Joan of Arc. These are just some of the woman who have worn the blade. Others have sought to control the wielder and the blade through her, some pretenders taking the blade onto their wrist. But only one chosen woman is a true wielder, all others are false and the Witchblade does not treat pretenders kindly. It is a weapon created for use by women, and can only be worn by women. It will kill any man who tries to wear it.

A few months ago, I was working a case and chased a suspected into the museum. There was an exhibit on Joan of Arc at the museum, and the witchblade was one of the centerpieces. It was in the gauntlet form. That's were I met Nottingham, my cryptic stalker. Kenneth Irons owned the pieces that were on display and Nottingham is some kind of bodyguard/ security chief for Irons. He was there that day. Anyway, I chase the perp into the display cases and we exchanged shots. I needed to reload, but lost my weapon. I was diving out of sight with him shooting at me. I looked for a weapon but didn't see anything. Somehow, when the perp came closer, the Witchblade shot out of the case and landed on my wrist, extended the sword, which I used to stab the perp. But not before one of his shots had hit a ruptured gas line and the whole place exploded. I somehow survived unhurt, which I later learned was because of the Witchblade.

I then found that the bracelet was on my arm and that it didn't seem to want to go back. I tracked down Irons as the owner of the exhibit, and offered to return the blade, but he made some cryptic remark about how could any person really own any thing. Then he set Nottingham on me, having the guy follow me every where I went. Hell, the bastard even breaks in here all the time. Mostly, he just restocks my cupboards, but I'm pretty sure he's taken a few things out of some of my dad's stuff."

Logan's expression had darkened as he listend to his friend's daughter explain her life. He didn't offer and objections or make any remarks concerning her statements about hte harmless seeming bracelet. He'd seen stranger things recently than a shapeshifting bracelet with a mind of its own that thirsted for blood and death. Hell, he was pretty damn strange himself, being a freak even among mutants. His mind was so fucked he couldn't really remember anything from more than fifteen years ago, and Chuck suspected that he would never had been able to recall as much about James Pezzini as he now did if he hadn't seen the news reports the prominently spoke of his daughter, Detective Sara Pezzini.

Neither did he react when she mentioned how she found the weapon and the characters that came into her life because of it. The name Kenneth Irons set his teeth on edge and made his claws itch to pop, but he used all his willpower to keep from slashing the furniture into kindling. He didn't even know how he knew the name, so there was no reason to get mad. Yet. "Nottingham? As in Sheriff of?"

Sara started at Logan's statement. A small chuckle escaped before she downed her bottle. "I never thought of that. Sheriff of Nottingham. Huh. Well, it sort of fits, actually. Irons is definitely a lot like Prince John, trying to take control of other peoples property, and Nott- Ian is his main henchman. Nottingham's had some pretty weird shit done to him by Irons and his doctors. Some kind of genetic and chemical therapy to increase his strength, speed, senses, and other stuff. But especially his loyalty to Irons. Part of the package with Witchy here, is visions.

Sometimes, I'll get visions about Ian's life. He was pretty much raised by Irons, and Irons abused him. I'm not talking about a slap here and there, but full on torture. Daily whippings and canings, tests to see if Ian would obey any order Irons gave him, punishment if he failed. Irons controlled all areas of Ian's life. You noticed the gloves? I've never seen him without them. Irons made him start wearing them as a way to isolate himself from human contact. Nottingham is a trained assassin and I know he's killed for Irons, but part of me can't really blame the guy for killing the people.

As far as I know, the only people he's killed were rivals for Irons less than legal business pursuits, people far worse than Ian himself. But lately, Irons has been getting fed up. He's tried to gain control over me, and I've managed to stay out of his grasp, and I think he's getting fed up. Last week, I'm pretty damn sure he sent Ian to kill me and bring me and the bracelet back to him. But Ian didn't, instead he slashed my hand open. I needed ten stitches and some shots. I don't know why he did it, but it has something to do with my blood. One of the benefits of wearing the Witchblade is an extended life span, much like your mutation. Once the blade bonded with me an a cellular level, it changed my blood."

"What's that got to do with Irons?" again the name struck a cord in his mind and a flash of a scarred hand lifting a crystal goblet appeared in his mind.

"See, sometimes the blade doesn't kill a pretender. Sometimes it punishes them in other ways. Irons used to have a relationship with one of the previous Wielder, an American spy in WW2 by the name of Elizabeth Bronte. She was in love with him, and in his own way, he cared for her. So she let him try on the Witchblade. It refused him and marked him, leaving a scar of interlocked circles on his hand. He is connected to the blade. It couldn't keep him from receiving some benefits, including the age thing. That and a bond that allows him to feel whatever the Wielder feels. But there's a catch. He needs the blood of a True Wielder in order to survive, otherwise he will start to age to his real age."

Logan frowned. More pictures had come to his mind while Sara spoke. "Irons, he's a tall guy, looks to be anywhere from 30-45 but is much older. Pale almost white hair and cold blue eyes. The scar, those circles. They're on his right hand. One of the circles represents life, and the other death and together, it shows how the two are always connected and how one can't exist without the other."

Sara was impressed. "How'd you know that? I mean, anyone can get pictures of him, he's not exactly lowkey, but you sound as if you know him. At least, know enough to know what the Witchblade's mark means."

Logan stood and paced, rubbing his knuckles and trying to remember more about the man. "I know him from somewhere. But I can't get a clear picture of how or where or even when I met him." His pacing brought him to Sara's punching bag and he lashed out, only barely keeping the claws in their sheaths before making contact. He still hit so hard that he snapped the chain and set the 100pound bag flying to slam against the wall nearly a dozen feet away. Whirling, he turned a frustrated look on Sara. "I know he's dangerous, but I don't know how or why." Taking a deep breath, he made his way to the couch and sat again. "Look, I think you're right to worry. If this Nottingham guy was conditioned the way you say, than he won't be able to resist any order Irons gives him, no matter what he feels for you. I think it might be a good idea for you to leave the city for a while. I have some friends who might be able to help you learn about that weapon of yours and would be able to protect you better than any of the agencies could."

Sara sighed and rubbed her face. "That's not all, Logan. Irons also funds his own select crew of crooked cops called the White Bulls. They are old, Logan, and go way up the chain of command. Right now, the main guy seems to be Bruno Dante. As in, Captain Bruno Dante, my direct superior on the force. Dante is scum, Logan. The lowest type of cop you'd ever want to meet. He and his gang think they are above the law and that what ever they do to criminals is alright, since they are criminals. They'll kill a dealer, only to turn around and sell the drugs themselves. Sure, they'll donate the money to various charities or scholarships, but it's dirty money. They accept bribes, and do everything they had sworn to put an end to. Money, drugs, weapons, prostitution. They have their hands in all of the underworld dealings. Their signature is an engraved bullet. A White bull carved into the bullets. If any of them get to a scene and find the casing, they immediately shut down the investigation, barely even going through the motions. Ever since I got the blade, I've been getting all the weird and unusual cases. Dante hates me, and I'm pretty sure he hired the guy who killed my dad. A mook named Tommy Galo."

Logan sighed, wondering if Sara's life could get any more complicated. "Shit darlin', if you got a group of crooked cops, assassins and hired killers after you, no wonder you need help. We need to get you out of the city, now. And before you mention a word about not wanted to run from you problems or how you can skip out on your job, take it from me: You do not want to be here right now. You need to disappear for a while. Call in some vacation time. I know you've probably build up a ton of it, if you're anything like your old man. Call it in now, and pack enough for a few days."

Sara frowned, even as she moved towards the phone. "Where we going to go, Logan?"

The ageless mutant smirked. "We're going to visit some friends of mine in Westchester. Don't bring too much, Chuck can get anything you might need besides what you can carry on your bike. That is your Beull outside? Beautiful machine."

Sara puffed up with pleasure as the older man complimented her pride and joy. "Thanks, it took forever to pay it off, but it's all mine now." She vanished into the bedroom, coming out seconds later with a duffel pack she had started to keep packed. She ignored Logan's raised eyebrow, and tossed him the bag. She moved over to grab her cell and weapon, but Logan's voice cut her off.

"Leave them. The cell is probably tapped, and you won't need the gun where we're going." Throwing him a look, she instead plugged the cell into the charger, and locked both her main department issue and her back up piece into her lockbox.

They made their way out of the apartment and down the stairs in silence, tension hovering in the air. Sara understood that she had to leave, but she really felt like she was abandoning her principals. She had never been one to run from her problems, prefering to face them head on and run them over, but even she had to admit that at the moment, things were a little too tense. She needed some time away from it all, from Dante's barely veiled threats to Irons controlling nature and even from the normal stress of being a female homicide detective. "There's a call or two I should make before I go." she stated as they reached the bikes.

Logan frowned and put on his helmet. "You can call from the mansion. It's got better security than most government installations. I should know. I helped revamp them."


	2. Chapter 2

Here's a new story Idea I had. I was roadblocked in my others, and this one will be low priority, but here goes anything.

The characters written about within this story are fictional and all rights are owned by the creators and publishers. I simply came up with the idea of combining their worlds and the mannerisms I saw for their characters. I hope you enjoy

STORY STARTS

Chapter 2

Ian frowned as he stood next to his master's chair in the Great Hall. His master had been behaving most oddly this evening, ever since he had mentioned the visitor to the wielder's home. Risking his master's wrath, he raised his head and spoke.

"Master, why did you have me return? I could have stayed and witnessed the wielder's discussion with the man, perhaps even followed him to his residence and gathered a report on him for you."

Irons spun around, slamming the heavy goblet onto the table, headless of the slooshing liquid splashing over the rim and onto the rug. He strode to his servant and backhanded the tensed figure across the face, drawing a thin line of blood from the corner of his mouth. "Never question my orders, Ian! You are not inexpendable." Taking a moment to calm himself as he again turned away from the younger man, Irons continued. "I don't need a report on him, Ian. I know more about him than he knows about himself. And I want you to stay away from him, at least for now."

Ian frowned, his master had never before hesitated in setting him against a rival, be it for a woman's hand or a contract worth millions. Yet now, for the first time in all his remembered life, Irons was ordering Ian to avoid conflict.

"How can this be so, master?" he asked, again risking his master's hand.

Irons again turned to his servant, this time holding his anger in. "For now, young Ian, it is enough for you to know that I do not wish you to interfere or contact the man in any way. You were right, earlier. He is a danger to me, but one that must be treated carefully. I want you to return to Sara's and keep watch. Do not speak to her or the man, but simply watch them. And follow if they leave. I wish to know where he has been hiding these last 15 years."

Ian nodded and left, his coat swirling around his legs silently as he did.

Irons went back to the bar and took a long swallow of the amber liquid in the crystal goblet. He refilled his glass and returned to hsi chair, sitting gracefully and staring into the fire. "So Logan has resurfaced. That explains what I heard about Alkali Lake. But who is protecting him? Where was he hiding since his escape? And, more important...How much does he remember?" Irons took a small sip as he contemplated the latest snag in his plan to control the wielder. If Sara were to learn what had happened to her father's friend, and if Logan were to regain the memories of the experiments done to him prior to the Adamantium Grafting, he, Irons, could be in for a difficult fight. Luckily, he had Nottingham on his side. And hopefully-as the saying goes- the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

"I wonder how either would react to knowing of the bond between them?" he mused to himself, allowing a ringing echo of laughter to fill the silent hall. "If I am lucky, neither will learn the truth. And since I don't believe in luck, I shall need to make arrangments for the possibilities." He lifted the receiver on the phone next ot his wingback and dialed security. Once the pleeb on the other end answered, he ordered the man to find Jenkins and send him to the hall immediately. Jenkins was no Nottingham, but he was a capable soldier and nearly as loyal.

BREAK

Sara gawked slightly as they rode up the long drive to the house. The letter she had received had shown that this school was wellfunded, but she would never have expected such opulence as this mansion demonstrated. She followed Logan to the side and into a three door garage, starting to get the same out of place feeling she had whenever she had to visit Irons. Whoever this Xavier was, he was obviously wealthy, and for a moment she wondered what he could have in common with someone like Logan, who her memories told her was more of a beerswilling, cigar smoking, rough and ready, adrenaline junkie then a person who could feel comfortable surrounded by all the signs of old money that hung everywhere. A glance at the wall of the garage caused her to blink and do a double take.

'Talk about being too rich for your own good. I'm willing to bet that that is an original VanGogh, and it's hanging on the wall of a freakin' garage! If that's the type of stuff this Xavier thinks is fit to hang in here, I'd hate to try and guess how much he's paid for the stuff hanging in the house.' She left her helmet on the seat of the bike and followed as Logan made his way to the inside door at the far end of the garage.

She hastened to follow the older man, trying to put her thoughts in order. The whole night had been unusual. Before returning home at the end of her shift, there had been an incident outside the precinct with a gangbanger getting gunned down as he was coming out in a driveby from a rival gang. Sara had narrowly avoided taking some of the rounds herself, and had been lucky to escape with nothing more than some scrapes and bruises. The most frightening thing was that Dante had appeared from inside and asked about her condition with actual concern in his voice. It was the first time in all the years she'd known him, going back the the times she'd come to the precinct to sit with her father while he typed up reports, that he'd ever expressed anything but disdain for her.

And she wondered what he was thinking, if he was actually worried that she could of been killed by the driveby, or if it was simply that he was worried that he might loose the chance to kill her himself.

Shaking off her gloomy thoughts, she looked around as she followed Logan through the maze of corridors in the mansion. Idly, she noted that while the place was indeed filled with museum qualilty artwork, the works themselves spoke of both taste and a keen eye. They had obviously been chosen not simply because of their price tags or rarity, like the few none Witchblade or other mystic art works Irons decorated his home in nor where they chosen to be status symbols like the things most wealthy people she had ever interacted with chose to display. These works had some intrinsic value to their owner beyond the potential resale value.

A sound from ahead caused her to look up from admiring a painting off some countryside castle, and she was shocked to see a small gang of ten-twelve year olds come streaking towards them. Most shocking was that most of the gang was made up of identical looking boys. There were six of them, chasing four other boys. Aside from their identical appearance, right down to their dress, and the fresh stains on the front of their shirts, the 6 were appearantly typical boys. Two of the others however, were not.

One was a boy with totally white hair and skin and a spiralled horn growing from his forehead. He was not wearing shoes, and his feet were making clacking sounds due to the fact that they were the hoofs of a horse.

The second boy was almost the total opposite of the other. He had black hair. Not the black of most people, which was really just dark brown, but the jet black usually used as dye by goths. His skin was a pale dusky red, and his eyes were glowing red orbs surrounded by black nothingness. His hands had 3 fingers and a thumb, all ending in black claws instead of fingernails. He also had a horn, though his was black and curved back over his head. His feet also had hoofs.

Aside from the color differences, there faces were nearly as identical as the 6 chasing them and the other, normal looking boys.

Sara was not surprised to see mutants, but she was surprised that the boys looked so young. From what she had heard, the mutant gene didn't kick in until puberty and usually needed a catalyst. The catalyst would usually be either a traumatic event or a sudden onset of intense emotion. She had never heard of any prepubesent mutations.

She opened her mouth to ask Logan a question, but paused when Logan let out a growl. She watched in shock as all the boys looked up and froze, their faces instantly crowding with fear. She was also surprised to note that the 6 identical boys collided with each other in an effort to stop, and became 12.

"What the hell?" she asked, as Logan glared at the boys, who were now all crowding together in a protective circle.

"Later, Sara." Logan stated with a short growl. "Now, how many times have Ororo and the Professor told you brats not to run in the halls?" he demanded.

The dozen boys spoke, their words echoing oddly, as though only fractionally behind each other. "We're sorry Professor Logan. It's just that I was getting a snack in the kitchen, and Gene and Gary" he indicated the normal boys, one of who stuck out a foot long tongue with spikes along the sides," decided to spook me by shadow stepping out from behind the door. I spilled everything on myself and fell against the counter. That's how I split into 3. Then Colt and Ebony started laughing at the mess I made and I tried to make them stop. We started fighting, the three of me and the four of them, and then there was six of me. Then we started chasing the four and came here."

Sara was throughouly confused. The 12 boys were claiming to be one boy?

Logan snorted, the duality of words hurting his ears. "Shut up. And for the sake of my ears, pull yourself together." The twelve boys nodded sheepishly and clasped hands, each of them pulling. There was a faint sound and 11 of the boys seemed to be pulled into one of them. "That's better. Now, I didn't ask why you were running, but who had told you not to run in the halls. That's what the rec floor is for. Now, get your asses up there and start cleaning the mess in there."

The 5 boys nodded sheepishly and slowly made their way down the hall.

"You didn't have to be so harsh with them, Logan. They looked terrified." Sara stated, a little miffed that he could be so hard on youngsters.

Logan huffed and smirked. "That was nothing, darlin'. Just giving the kids what they want. They ain't really afraid of me, the little snots. They just pretend they are, and I pretend to chew em out, like I would anyone else who screwed up. Being a mutant isn't easy, especially for ones like Jamie, Gale, Ebony, and Colt. There's no way for them to pass as normal. Jamie was the one who copied himself. It happens everytime he gets hit and isn't ready for it. Chuck and the other's are trying to teach the kids here how to control those reactions. Me, I'm trying to teach them how to survive. So sometimes, I have to be a little ruff on them. I don't like it, but if it keeps them from getting killed, than I've done my job. Of course, if you tell anyone what I just said, I'd have to hurt you."

Sara shook her head, feeling slightly out of touch with the daily struggles mutants had to live with. The fear of exposure, of the hatred of people she'd known her whole life. Of the constant threat of attack and death. Sure, her life wasn't a picnic by any stretch of the imagination now that she had the Witchblade, but at least she didn't have to worry about people wanting to kill her simply because of her skin color or for having extra appendages or protrusions.

Logan huffed again and snorted. "Look, just go with it. Come on, Chuck is waiting in his office with Scooter and Red."

"Lead on, Logan. I have no clue where we are, remember?" she stated with a wry chuckle.

Logan and Sara made there way to the main foyer, passing several more students of varying ages. Some had physical differences that marked them as mutants, while others looked like any other children Sara had ever seen. They went up the large central staircase. There was a crowd of teens lounging around the top of the landing who all stood and gave Logan hearty greetings.

Logan simply grunted at them before taking the right path. They finally reached a solid doubledoored room. Before they even reached the door, the handles turned and they swung inward.

Sara followed Logan into the room, looking around the office of the man he'd called Chuck. She scanned the room automatically cataloguing entrances and exits as well as noting the presence of four people. One, an older bald man was sitting behind the desk. To his right and looking down over his shoulder at a report of some kind was a black woman with stark white hair. On his left, also seated in a ornate, yet comfortable looking chair, was a red haired woman wearing doctor's scrubs. Behind the man, standing facing the door, and back to the window in an obviosuly protective stance guarding the older man from attacks from the open window, was a young man, who was wearing an odd set of glasses. The lenses were dark, ruby red, and even from this distance Sara could tell that they were not made of glass, but of something else.

Logan swaggered into the room and collapsed on one of the two chairs conveniently stationed in front of the large desk. Sara, not knowing what to do in the presence of a man who seemed to exude power and control simply followed his lead and sat gently in the plush leather seat.

"Chuck, this is Sara Pezzini. She's the daughter of an old friend of mine. Sara, this is Professor Charles Xavier. The woman with him are Ororo Munroe, a teacher here at the school, and Dr. Jean Grey. She's the schools resident medic and also teaches a few classes. The wooden faced preppy behind Chuck is Scott Summers, Jean's husband and the field leader of the Xmen, which is what we call our little group when we're hunting down rogue mutants bent on using their powers to commit crimes or attempt to take over the world."

"Ah, hi." Sara stated, not sure what to make of the idea of a mutant vigilanty group.

"Good Evening, Detective. Please, before we commence, allow me to set your mind at ease. Contrary to what some have claimed, the Xmen are not a vigilanty group. We are simply a group of concerned citizens who have the skills and abilities to handled individuals who can not be apprehended by normal means. Recently, we were awarded a special sanction that grants us governmental sanction to handle those individuals with gifts that are more troublesome for less gifted individuals or agencies to handle. Much like SHIELD, but without the public funding." The words were delivered with a well modulated Brittish accent that seemed designed to lend credibility to the speaker, the older man, who Sara could now see was in a wheelchair.

Sara was more confused than ever and looked to Logan for a translation. While not stupid, several of his statements confused her.

"Basically, we were deputized, with a specific mandate to track and contain mutants who've gone bad." Logan stated.

Sara nodded. She could understand more of what had been said, now. "But what's SHIELD?"

"A rather lowkey special forces group that have been around since before WW2. No one really knows about them, but that's simply because no one bothers to look. Thanks to the Freedom of Information Act, they are now accounted for, but before that was passed, they were what people called 'Men in Black'. They are a group of highly trained and well funded people selected from the best of the best from other agencies and squads from the countries that fund SHIELD. They have been trained and have the technology needed in order to battle forces beyond anything most people would even consider possible."

"Like those boys I saw? They hunt down people like that? Or only those who are breaking hte law?"

"SHIELD mainly concerns itself with those few who are international or intranational threats. They are the last line of defense against mutants bent on world domination or coup d'etats. We, along with a number of groups around the world, have been granted the authority to perform a similar function towards curtailing those mutants or those gifted with super human abilities from using those gifts in a destructive manner on a local scale." the answer came from the red head, who was now standing up right and peering down her nose at Sara. Sara didn't know what it was about her, but she didn't like the woman and she could tell that the feeling was mutual. Maybe it was that they were at opposite ends of the 'female' spectrum. Sara was, and had always been, something of a tomboy. And the other woman, Grey, was obviously one of those preppy, soccer mom types. Something Sara had always hated.

"Okay, but who decides what's a national or global threat, and what's simply a kid doing the equivalent of rebelling against his parents?" Sara asked.

"That is part of the reason we were given sanction to perform out task. Who would know the difference better than those who have lived the life of a rebellious child with special gifts?" The black woman asked. She had been silent the entire time Sara had been. Sara had noticed that her gaze had been drawn to the bracelet, though most people only noticed it when she shoved it in their faces. There had been a flicker of something, not quite recognition, but something akin to it that crossed her face before the conversation had started.

"I guess that does make sense. Any way, as interesting as this all is, I still would like to know why Logan brought me here." Sara turned to her father's old friend. "I'm not sure how much he's told you about me, but I hate the idea of running from my problems. I'm more of a smash through like a wrecking ball kind of girl."

"That's why you're here, Sara." Logan stated. "You said it yourself. Things are really dangerous for you right now. You need some time away from your problems. A vacation. Stay here a few days and relax. Don't worry about your safety or about work or anything. Just take some time and enjoy yourself. Trust me, it helps."

Sara stood and paced, unable to sit still any longer. She could definitely see some merits in Logan's suggestions. Her life was a little crowded lately, with Irons and Nottingham constantly tracking her movements, and Dante looking for a chance to either tear her down and throw her off the force or just kill her. Either would work for him. Add the stress of loosing both Joe and Danny, and learning that Dante had hired Gallo to kill her father, then further learning that Irons was one of the major bankrollers for the White Bulls, and her life pretty much sucked. The only good things in it right now were Gabe and finding out Logan was still alive.

She returned to the chair and sat heavily, sighing as she did. "So you want me to relax? Just sit around and not think about how fucked my life has become? I really wish I could, but there are things none of you understand about me. I know, you're thinking that what could I possibly have in my life that could be more complex than being a mutant? Well, I showed Logan earlier, but I'm not sure how to tell the rest of you." Without warning, the jeweled eye of the blade open and began to glow, it's bright red light filling the room. Startled, she raised her arm and the blade extended into the full gauntlet, then transforming through to the knuckles, bracelet, stiletto, and back to the gauntlet with the sword extended.

"Well. That was interesting." She stated wryly, staring at the blade. 'Someday, Witchy, you and I need to have a nice long chat about your timing.' "As I was saying, not long ago, this came into my life, and since then, I've been hounded by a billionaire and his pet psycho bodyguard/stalker, have learned that most of my precint and maybe as much as half the officer's in New York belong to a corrupt organization called the White Bulls. I've lost my partner and best friend, my father's closest friend who was like a surrogate for me after my father was killed. I've learned that the man who killed my father was hired by my new captain, and that he works for the billionaire who has his genetically enhanced killing machine bodyguard stalking me. And now, he's triyng to either kill me or get me thrown off the force. Oh, yeah. The psycho killing machine is also in love with me and has been going around killing any one who threatens me or gets involved with me, and quoting really dumb and cryptic poetry and plays. Hell, I told him to get lost and die and he offered to take his own life if I trully wanted him dead.

To top it off, I think I've got the hots for my stalker- who did I mention, is a genetically enhanced, brainwashed and drug indoctrinated killing machine who obeys his master, a freakish 100year old billionaire who looks like he's in his thirties?" During her speech, Sara had risen and started pacing again, her agitation sending out waves that were clear to even the psychically blind. It was more than enough to give the two powerfull telepaths intense headaches. "And let's not forget that this bracelet is a weapon and aside from generally urging me to kill all those who are causing me problems, it gives me visions of past lives and brings ghosts back to talk to me." She waved her arms around, not noticing that the blade retracted back to the bracelet form, the eye still glowing dully. Nor did she notice that it retracted right before it would have given Logan a new hairstyle. She crossed her arms and went to the doors, leaned against the frame and staring down the hall towards the same group of teens, who were acting a little too casual to have not heard her yelling. Sighing she came back and threw herself back into the chair, ignoring the creaking of old leather as she did.

There was silence as those unfamiliar with her life story took in the rather heavily editted version she'd chosen to share. She simply sat, staring blankly ahead, feeling a vague sense of relief at finally being allowed to vent some of the stress she'd had growing within her these last few months. She was totally oblivious to the looks of surprise and sympathy the assorted group were giving her. It was a testament to how out of it she was that she started and fell backwards on the chair, turning it into an awkward roll, reaching for a gun she'd left locked in her home safe when a soft hand settled on her shoulder.

Blinking she stared at the black woman, who was looking at her with an almost admiring gaze. She grinned sheepishly and shook off her extented hand. "Sorry, lately I've been jumpier than a junkie after a week without a hit."

Ororo, that was the woman's name, her mind informed her, simply smiled and gave a small nod. "No appology needed. I should have realized how stressfull it was for you to let go of so much at once and approached a little more cautiously. As I was going to say, however, that is the Digitalum Arcanum, is it not?"

Sara threw a glare at the woman. She had so far met only one person she trusted to know anything about the blade, and he was in New York, probably surfing the net for new acquisitions. "What do you know about it?" she demanded, an edge to her voice that had not been there before.

Ororo held up her hands palm first. "Peace, sister. In my village, there was a legend. A legend that stated that in times of great need, or great danger to the world, the Glove would find it's way onto a chosen daughter of the goddess and she would lead the warriors into battle to safeguard the lands of all people, not just the one tribe. When my powers first started to show themselves, I was quite young. Though mutation usually occurs during puberty, as I am sure you have heard, there are cases were it is triggered in the very young and even some who are born with their gifts. I was one such child.

I had the gift since birth, and it was marked by my hair. I was raised as a priestess, and when one day I grew frustrated at the goddess for failing to hear my prayers to relieve a draught, I screamed to the sky for it to open and let loose the rain, and it did. This elevated me to godhood in the eyes of my village, and I was then separated from my family. I was taught things that only the vilalge shaman would have been shown, including the history of the Glove. My tribe has birthed 3 Wielder's in the last 2500years since we arrived in our homeland. The last was in what the Western world calls the Dark ages. Since then, one boy from the village was chosen at birth and sent into the world to seek the Glove and return it to the sacred lands."

Now it was Sara's turn for a headache to form. She hated not knowing more about the history of the blade, and cursed Irons for his secrecy and his efficiency at hiding the knowledge from her. How many others, she thought to herself, are out there searching for this thing because of similar histories in their tribe or clan or family? "Well, sorry to say, but it's attached to me, and I couldn't give it to you if I wanted to."

Ororo smiled and shook her head. "You misunderstand, sister. I do not wish to remove the Glove from you. The fact that you wear the glove and that it alters it's form for you, proves that you are a True Wielder, and as such, it is the duty of my self and my tribe to aid you in any possible way we can. Since I have long since been abandoned by my tribe for my association with outsiders, I have only the aid that I, and my new family," she gestured at the people behind her, who were watching the pair intensely. "Can provide. If all you wish is a safe haven where you may relax and enjoy yourself a little, than there is likely no safer place in this world for you than here." Again she gestured to the people still behind the desk. "We are all mutants, each of us a living testament of power. My gift is the gift of weather, and in my village, I was called 'Weather Witch'.

Here, among the Xmen, I am known as Storm. Scott's, who is known as Cyclops, gift is the gift of a powerful concussive optic blast. Unfortunately, due to an accident in his youth, he can not control the intensity of the beams. That is why he wears those glasses at all times. His wife, Jean, who holds several medical degrees, devised a visor with finger touch controls that allows him to have some degree of control over the strength of the beam. Jean herself, is a telepath and telekinitic who is second in strength only to Professor Xavier, who is the most powerfull telepath in the world. The four of us, along with Logan and his gifts, are simply a few of the defenses that are provided here at the Institute. We have technological wonders that are decades ahead of what is commercially available, as well as a dozen powerfull students who are also capable and willing to lend aid should need arise. You are safe here, sister, and now, I think it is time Logan shows you to a guest room. You must be exhausted after sharing all that with us, nevermind whatever else has happened today."

Sara wearily nodded and hefted the sack she'd dropped by the door while Logan rose to guide her to the halls. She was so drained, both emotionally and physically, that she failed to notice Logan throw a glance over his shoulder to Xavier and the intense look on his face as he grabbed her arm and allowed her to lean on him while he guided her to the room she was being assigned while at the school. Her room was in the same hall as his own, and right next to the one Rogue was assigned. As she was the only student whose powers were constantly lethal and the most frightening and worrying for the other students, Rogue was assigned a room near Logan, who was the only one, either students or staff, that had no fear of Rogue's harsh mutation. Logan had personally chosen the room, as he felt Sara would feel better if she had someone nearby who she knew and could trust.


	3. Chapter 3

STORY STARTS

Chapter 3

Xavier and the others watched as Logan and Sara left the office, Logan supporting most of the detective's weight. They waited until the pair were well out of earshot, and then Xavier nodded to Jean who used her gift to close the door.

"Well, that was interesting. She is more than Logan said. Of course, his memories of her are of a 10 year old girl who craved her father's attention. I am certain that she is not exagerrating the danger she finds herself in because of that gauntlet she now possesses." He steepled his hands on under his chin. "During the conversation, Logan sent me a few images of the people she is most concerned about. I think it might be a good idea for us all to familliarize ourselves with Kenneth Irons, Ian Nottingham, and Bruno Dante." He mentally cast the images of the three men into his dearests friends and students. "Also, I think it might be a good idea to include Rogue, Bobby, Jubilee, and Piotr in any further briefings. Warn the four about Sara's . . .gift, and have them start a rotation of the children so that at least two of them are within earshot of her while she is on the grounds."

Scott added a suggestion of his own. "Perhaps, sir, it might be a good idea to have one or two of them go with her when she returns home? No matter how much Logan might wish it otherwise, I have no doubt that she will only be here for a few days before she feels the need to return to her own home and face her problems. She herself said that she hated running from her problems, and I doubt we can convince her to stay more than the weekend and certainly no more than a week at most."

Jean also added her opinion. "I agree with Scott, Professor. She doesn't seem the type to wait while her problems solve themselves. Though I hesitate to send any of the children with her. That would place them in unnecessary danger. Perhaps Logan can stay with her until the major problems are ended."

Xavier frowned at the undercurrents in Jean's voice. Something about the detective was rilling her temper. He'd look into the cause later, for now they had other concerns. "Logan will soon be leaving on a task that requires his special skills and background, Jean. I too, hesitate to put the children in danger, but for our subterfuge to work, the person accompanying Sara must not be known. That rules out yourself, Scott, or Ororo. Kurt is unable to pass as normal, and Hank is similarly bound to the school as myself. No, it will need to be one of the children, but one who has not been exposed during that incident last year."

"Who do you suggest, then, Professor?" Scott asked.

Xavier rolled out from behind his seat and over to the bookcase. He stared at the ancient works and pondered the question. "It will need to be someone capable of defending themselves and the detective. Someone who might pass as a relative or family friend. Someone who's gifts are not so drastic as to force them into hiding."

"Collosus." Logan stated as he entered the office. "Send him and Rogue. He's the muscle and Rogue has the clearest head of any of the brats. The Popsicle has been spotted and has been exposed because of the problems at his parents, but Rogue was never shown. Have her dye those streaks or change her hair, and wear slightly different clothes and no one would suspect her. Piotr is her backup. He's even tempered, but knows when to fight and his power would be the most usefull. That steel skin of his will come in handy, and if needed Rogue can borrow it and the two could hold off a small army.

Throw in Sara and that weapon of hers and I think she'll be well covered. But that's only a delaying tactic. We have to stop the source, and that is Kenneth Irons." Turning to the wheelchair bound man, he cocked an eyebrow. "I know him. He was there, with Stryker. I need you to go back in and find out more about him. It's the only way we might get him to leave her alone. Plus, I'm sure that his bodyguard, the stalker, has described me to him and Irons knows who I am. He'll come looking for me."

BREAK

"What do you mean you can't find her?"

Ian winced and moved the phone slightly away from his ears. Not for the first time, he cursed the genetic enhancements and drug therapy he had undergone. His hearing had become more acute over time, which had at times aided in his duties for his master, but also made it more difficult to withstand his master's anger.

"She is not in her apartment, nor is she at the gym she frequents. I have also gone to the precint, the home of her deceased partner, and of McCartey. Her cellphone, weapons, and badge are all in the apartment. Regrettably, we have not been able to place a tracker on her motorcycle, due to her obsessive habit of checking it for such devices or for tampering. I have bugged her cell, placed a microdot tracker on both her weapons, and even managed one on her badge, but as I said, she has left those here in the apartment. I suspect that she left with the man who was here earlier. If I can locate him, I will find her." Ian waited a moment to allow his master time to assimilate his words before continuing. "There must be records about him somewhere, master. He was obviously military trained."

"I told you Nottingham, I do not want you to make contact with him yet. And you might have been right, but all records regarding him have been erased. Not even his birth records remain. He is an unperson, completely off the system and thus better able to perform the duties he was recruited for." Irons voice was as calm as ever, but there was a faint quiver of worry in it, enough for Ian to detect, which worried him. Ian had never before heard his master express such unwilling emotions, and it worried him. Anything that could possibly worry his master so much, had to be both dangerous and important. Perhaps it was time for him to once again disobey his master and conduct his own research on the man.

"Ian, I want you to trail young Gabriel. It is likely that the lovely Sara will attempt to contact him at some point in the near future and I want you nearby to hear what she has to say. Also, try and place both a tracker and a tracer on his phones. Perhaps we can locate Sara through that. I am working on other contacts at the moment, and I want you to put all your efforts into finding the Wielder. Jenkins can perform your duties here adequately until Sara is returned to us."

Ian nodded as the line cut off. Turning in the dark apartment, he started to make his way to the window when a light across the table drew his attention to a enveloppe on Sara's table.

Making his way over, he lifted the enveloppe and grinned in the darkness. The enveloppe was addressed to Sara, from person going by the name Logan, and the return address was for a private school upstate. Xavier's Institute for the Gifted, 1300 Greymalkin Lane, Westchester NY, to be precise. And if his idetic memory served him, he had overheard conversations between his master and several different unknown parties regarding the institute. He also recalled several news reports. The Xavier in Xavier's Institute was Professor Charles Xavier, one of the leading figures in the fight for Mutant Rights. Rumor had it that he was also the founder and leader of a mutant group of guerilla fighters known as the X-Men.

Deciding that his master was partially right and that visiting the young entrepaneur might be a usefull use of his time, despite his already having tapped his phones and hacked his email accounts, Ian leaped out the window, twisting to shut it behind him as he begun the freefall to the ground five stories below.

BREAK

Sara sat on the edge of the king sized bed in the palatial guest suite that had been assigned to her and stared at the wall mindlessly. She had attempted to protest against the opulence of the room, but Logan had grunted and shown her his room, which was next door. If anything, his room was even more elaborate than this one, and Logan had snorted at the expression before explaining that Xavier insisted that his instructors and staff have the best of everything, even if it meant having $1000 designer sheets and blankets when he was more comfortable with the thrift store wool blankets and a thermosleeping bag.

So now, she sat and waited, too tired to think about the problems affecting her life. On her wrist, the witchblade was silent and dark, showing neither approval or anger about current events. Aside from the display in the professor's office, it had been rather quiet. It had not prompted her with any visions since Logan's story back in the loft.

Slowly, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to collapse backwards onto the mattress. Breathing slowly, she tried to keep her mind in it's quiescent state, not wishing to once again be bombarded by how out of control her life had become. It had been one disaster after another, starting with the death of her best friend, Marie. After that, she chased Gallo's stooge into the musuem were the Witchblade attached itself to her and then Gallo killing Danny in the Rialto. During those, she'd picked up a freakish genetically enhanced stalker who worked for an obsessive billionaire intent on controlling her and the ancient weapon.

Joe Sirri retired and Dante took over. Danny came back into her life as a ghost and instructed her to talk to Joe, who gave her a box of her father's things. Including a video he had made naming names and giving testamony regarding a secret corrupt force within the police ranks called the White Bulls. Not surprisingly, she'd learned that Dante was the head of this corrupt group and that he had hired Gallo to kill her father. Now it looked like he had killed Joe to keep him from testifying or talking to her about the stuff in that box, and he seemed to be doing his best to get her killed or fired.

And here she was thinking about it again when she was trying not to. Desparate to think of something else, and starting to feel a little hungry, she decided to go in search of the kitchen, or at least, see if she could find a vending machine or something.

She left the room and made her way back down the hall to the main stairwell. The teens that had been hanging out on the stairs were no longer there, and judging from the echoing laughter ringing from down the other hall, she guessed there must be some type of communal gathering room there, possibly a rec room of some type. Not feeling up with having to deal with too many screaming hormonally unbalanced teenagers and giggling prepubescent tykes, she decided against further investigating and quietly made her way down the stairs. She recognized the way to the garage, and decided to go down a side hall.

The hall was empty, and glancing into several of the rooms, she grinned as she realized why. Logan had said that this was a school, and she had now found the classrooms. Realizing that it was unlikely that the kitchen would be near this part of the building, she turned around and made her way back to the main foyer. Taking the other branching hall furthest from the main doors, she perked up as she smelled something that reminded her significantly of her one true addiction and vice: Coffee!

She nearly sprinted down the hall, her grin growing as she recognized that the slight stir of air was indeed bringing her towards the life saving beverage. She had to reign herself in as she reach a set of swinging doors that reminded her of the restaurants with the IN/OUT doors that lead into their kitchens. Tentatively pushing the door, she peeked in and scanned the room, her eyes and nose leading her directly to the just finished brewing pot.

She made a beeling towards the pot, noting as she did that there were mugs stacked neatly next to the industrial sized machine. She poured herself a cup and downed it in three large gulps, ignoring the burning heat as it coursed down her throat in favor of the near miraculous calming effect the caffeine rich blend had on her nerves. She poured a second cup, this time adding a bit of sugar and taking a small sip. She didn't recognize the brand, but it was better than anything she'd had before. Turning, she almost dropped the mug as she finally realized that she was not alone in the room.

A girl sat at the island counter, grinning at her. The girl hard dark brown hair, except for two white streaks that framed her face. She was almost completely covered, only her face and hands left showing. Before her on the counter were a tall glass of milk, and a plate with a couple of sandwiches on it. Next to the plate were a pair of long, opera style gloves.

"Sorry to startle you, " the girl said quietly, with a southern drawl to her words. "But I was here first." There was a hint of mirth in her voice, as though the girl was amused by Sara's reactions.

"No problem, just gave me a bit of a shock to see you. I didn't notice you when I came in." Sara stated, taking a long, calming drink from her mug.

The girl's grin grew widder and a sparkle appeared in her eye. "I can see why. You homed in on the coffee with the same focus Logan gets when he's in a fight."

Sara was intrigued. The girl before her was young, no more than 18 or 19 at most. She seemed to be familiar with Logan and there was an almost possessive tone to her voice when she'd said his name. Returning the grin, Sara spoke up. "Yeah, well, let's just say it's been a rough day and I'm behind on my caffeine quota." She again looked the girl over while speaking, noting the pleasant laugh and the easy amusement that surrounded the girl. "I'm Sara Pezzini, by the way. I'm visiting for a while." she stated, not sure what else to say. "Hey, I saw you earlier, right? Sitting at the stairs with a few others when Logan and I got here? A big guy, huge muscles, a shorter blond guy, and the Asian girl wearing yellow?" She moved closer to the island and pulled a stool over so she could sit across from the girl. As she did, she noting a slight tensing in the girl, and didn't miss her putting down the sandwich and putting on the gloves.

The girl smiled and nodded. "The big guy is Piotr. The blond is Bobby, and the other girl is Jubilee. I'm Rogue." She held out a gloved hand, and Sara reached over and shook it.

Without warning, the blade flared into life and she was thrust into a quick series of visions.

VISION

FLASH

Sara watched as a younger version of the girl, wearing still modest, but less concealing clothing and without streaks smiled at a boy about her age. They were in a room, decorated in a feminine manner and with a huge map of North Amaerica on the wall. The boy leaned in for a kiss, and Sara could see the anticipation and nervousness on the girl's face.

The pair met and Sara watched as something odd happened. The veins on the boys face started to bulge and he tried to push the girl away, but for some reason, he seemed unable to do so. Eventually, the girl, also seeming to panic as her eyes widdened, pushed the boy away and started screaming, holding her head as though in great pain.

FLASH

The girl, now wearing a thick cloak to ward of the chill of winter, sat at the bar of a rundown shack. Behind her, inside a chainlink cage of somekind, two men fought savagely. Sara recognized one of the men as Logan, and took a moment to marvel at his sculpted perfection, before the action drew her and she found herself wincing as the other man pounded on him. Until his fist swung out of nowhere, slamming into the other man's and Sara heard the two distinctive sounds of ringing metal and shattering bone. The larger man stumbled back, craddled his busted hand as Logan surged to his feet and stalked forward, slamming his forehead into the other man and knocking him out.

The rest moved forward. She saw as Logan reached the bar, and the man behind the bar gave him his winnings. Then she watched the girl shout a warning as the looser of the last fight and several friends approached Logan and a knife appeared. She watched in awe as Logan moved so fast, she didn't see the moves, only the results. She watched as the girl snuck into the back of Logan's trailer.

FLASH

She watched as the girl, now wearing a long nightrobe, approached a thrashing and moaning figure laying on a bed. As the girl drew nearer, Logan suddenly sprang out from the bed, his fists flashing forward and those terrible claws flashing in the dim light as they ran through the girl. The girl flinched and looked down, before raising her face to look at Logan. There was no anger on the girl's face, only acceptance, and Sara felt a well of sympathy for someone so young who must have endured so much to be willing to accept death so easily. There was sickening slurping sound as the claws withdrew from the girl and back into Logan's hands.

She watched as Logan fearfully held the girl, yelling at the kids gawking from the door to get help. The girl's hand slid up and touched Logan's face, and she watched as Logan's veins bulged and he started convulsing in the same manner as the boy. She had a good view of the girls back as the three cuts sealed themselves and soon disappeared altogether, leaving only the blood behind to show that anything had happened. The girl shot to her feet, watching in horror as Logan's body shook and he started foaming slightly at the mouth. She turned to face the assembled kids, yelling that it was an accident. That she hadn't meant it. Seeing the fear in their eyes, she ran for the door, ignoring their scramble to get out of the way.

Other moments featuring the girl showed how her 'gift' worked. Each person she touched was effected, though with a mutant, she took on that person's powers. The strange events of the Ellis Island incident that had puzzled authorities played out before her eyes and she again felt a wave of sorrow at the girl's misfortune.

END VISION

"Man that sucks." Sara stated after regaining her senses.

Marie shook her head, trying to clear her mind from the summary of her life up to his point. "What did you do?"

Sara grined humourlessly. "You saw it too? Well, that's new. I didn't know Witchy here could bring others into the visions it gives me. Well, other than Irons who had been bonded to it, and Nottingham who has some other weird connection I don't really understand." She gestrued to her wrist and the ancient weapon that she was wearing.

Marie grinned as thinly as the older woman. "It seems we have a lot in common. You see visions of the dead, and I get every memory of the people I absorb. Which, in a way, means I take them into my head. If I hold on long enough, or if it's a strong enough personality, I can even 'talk' to them and get their advice on stuff."

"That must be awkward sometimes. Do they talk to each other, or only answer when you ask them something?" Sara asked, taking another sip of her coffee. She felt comfortable with the girl, more comfortable than she could remember feeling with anyone besides Danny and her father.

Marie snorted. "Well, it's not like they stay there looking out at what I'm doing, but more like a . . .well somekind of talking database. I have to ask them what I want to know, but the answers come from their minds so they are framed by how that person sees things. And when it first happens, when they first get in my head, they are a little active on their own. Some are angry, while a few don't seem to mind. Some, like Eric want to try and 'guide' me to do what they want, while others, like Cody, just want to know what's happening. A few try to take over, and for the first few days after absorbing a new personality, I pick up little traits of that person, even when they fade into the background. Like with Eric. well for a week after wards, I always had a craving for a glass of brandy and a game of chess. I was also attracted to the Prof and kept throwing out little reminders of the times he and Eric had when they were at college together."

"I'm sure that didn't make too many friends with the other kids." Sara said, finishing her coffee and moving to pour herself a third cup.

Marie nodded, then spoke bitterly. "It doesn't help that I can't control it and that whenever someone touches me, it will happen. If someone holds on too long, they can die. And while their minds usually fade into the background until I call for them, if someone dies, they stay there awake and watching. If it's a mutant, I keep their powers, instead of them fading like their thoughts."

Sara frowned at that. "How do you know that? Has anyone held on that long before?"

Marie sighed and looked away from the older woman. "Yes. Logan did, but his powers healed him and now, I have his healing and senses. Nearly drove me insane a few times, and makes me appreciate how much control he has and understand why he's so . . . cranky around others. Another was a woman named Carol, who was dying of cancer. She had learned about me from some associates of Eric's, and knew that if she could make me absorb her, that there was a chance she could take over my mind and body. She wasn't a bad person, really, just desparate and self centered. She worked for a group called SHIELD as a field operative and felt that her survival was more important to the security of the world than that of a mere mutant girl who had ran away from home.

When she managed to get me, she held on until she was dead, and then tried to take over. For almost two weeks we fought and if it wasn't for having Logan and Eric in my head, I would have been swept aside. She had an incredibly disciplined mind."

"Was she a mutant? Did you get her powers?" Sara asked curiously. She sensed that the girl was telling her something intensely private, something that she probably hadn't told more than a handful of people.

Marie shrugged. "Well, not exactly a mutant. I'm guessing that you don't believe much in magic and gods and stuff?"

Sara snorted. "Kid, I've seen things I don't know how to describe except as magic." She thought back to Daniel, and Danny Woo's ghost who was always popping up. The images of past lives that flashed into her mind when the witchblade was trying to tell her something. She held up her wrist and the stone of the blade glowed as the bracelet transformed. "This is a magical weapon as old as civilization itself. I've heard some say that it was made from a branch from the tree of wisdom in the garden of Eden after Adam and Eve ate the apple. So while I'm usually skeptical, I've been forced to keep an open mind. So what does magic got to do with this . . . Carol?"

"Carol was known in certain circles as Ms. Marvel. Her source of powers was an ancient magical spell that was transfered to her during some kind of storm. Captain Marvel was fighting some one and his powers were transfered to her because of a freak lighting bolt hitting a weapon designed to draw his powers from him into one of his enemies. She had been a teacher and the fight was taking place at the school she taught. After wards, she quit the school and was recruited by SHIELD. Then a few years later, she found out she had a fatal case of cancer with no hope of recovery. She started looking for ways to cure herself and learned about me. And the rest is history."


	4. Chapter 4

STORY STARTS

Chapter 4

Ian frowned as he surveyed the grounds of the estate from the top of a nearby bluff. He had not dared approaching any closer without the opportunity to study as much as he could about the layout of the grounds and already he could see that much of the grounds did not conform to the estate deeds and building plans filed at the County Clerks office.

He passed a trained eye over the grounds, noting several varying level of security instalments from the mundane camera's and laser tripwires to more upscale heat sensors and highly modified motion sensors. He had even noted traditional alarms and pre-electrical traps including several nonlethal Tiger Falls, snares, fall boxes, and dozens of other tricks, traps, and alarms used by skilled hunters from all parts of the globe. The majority of the systems were all alarms of some kind, and he didn't note any offensive measures, though he had noted the places he would have placed them and was certain that the apparently harmless statues, small trees, and other ornaments were in place to disguise the serious defensive measures.

He replaced his binocculars into the compact case he wore on his belt and turned on the overhead light of his vehicle, again studied the most detailed satellite images he had been able to find on the estate and it's surrounding neighbors.

He could feel the presence of his beloved Wielder from within the grounds, his connection to her through the 'Blade and their shared genetic heritage allowing to pinpoint her location to within meters when he was within a mile of her. Unfortunately, he was just outside his range, and could only dimly feel that she was somewhere within the large mansion of the estate and not the grounds or one of several smaller dwellings located around the large compound. He had to admit though, that as good as he was, there was little chance of his finding her within the grounds without being notice. The security arrangments that he noted were all among the best and most sophistacated examples he had ever seen, including the more primitive traps. And even though he had once snuck into the Gold Depository at both Fort Knox and the New York Exchange without so much as a hint that he had ever been except for the small card left behind each to show the weakness of their security, he knew that the security here was far beyond anything he had dealt with before. He strongly suspected that the systems he had seen were only there for the purpose of being seen and that the true protection of the grounds came from a far different and more reliable source.

As he often did of late, he cursed the fates that had caused him to find himself struggling between duty to his master, and duty to the Wielder. His duty to the Wielder had been his since time immaterial and had he his wish, he would never part from the side of the strong and beautiful Detective even without their shared ties to the ancient sentient weapon. But alas, at some point in his youth, Irons had found him and taken him into his circle, training him to be the perfect companion. Loyal, intelligent, strong of mind and body, and ruthless. Since his first days of memory, he had known nothing but what Irons had seen fit to have him know. Given an education that would be the envy of all, but forced to hide his intellect behind the emotionless facade Irons had crafted into him. Forced to use the physical gifts granted through the scientific endeavours of countless years of research for nothing more than to be his master's scalpel, cutting the strings of those of whom his master wished disposed. He'd spend his entire life seeking to gain his master's approval, performing acts that he knew to be degrading to himself and his honour all to get a simple acknowledgement of his master's satisfaction.

Lately though, the desire to serve his master had begun to wave, and a grain of disatisfaction with his life had srpung to life and started to grow within him. He knew that Sara was the source, yet he could not fault her with the disruption to the, if not content or pleasureable nature or his life, at least it had been stable and predictable. Since meeting Sara in the museum and her bonding to the Witchblade, his life had been anything but stable. And though he had suffered greatly as a result of his new found rebellious nature, he could do nothing but thank her for allowing him a glimpse of the life he should have lead as her companion and guardian.

Those few times when circumstance had conspired to allow him to work at her side, he found himself filled with joy and longing. She was intelligent, beautiful, and strong, everything a man should wish for in a woman and yet his master often sought to take that which he found most appealing about her: her steadfast independence and inner strength that had guided her life, leading her to chose a life that ostrocized from the norms of society as much as the life Irons had chosen from him.

Sara was not content with simply looking pretty and simpering for a man, no matter how much his master sought to manipulate her to such a life. She thrived on challenges and was only trully alive when performing what he knew to be more than simply her job, but was instead a passion and a calling to her. She daily went in to a workplace where she knew she was not welcome, and had to work three times as hard as her coworkers, not only because of her gender but also because of the personal grudge held against her by her superiors and their corrupt beauracrocy. It was hard enough for a woman to gain acceptence in the field of law enforcement, but when her supervising officers and half of the members of her precint would gladly but a bullet in her head made her doing her job much more complicated.

He admired her inner strength as much her outer beauty. Most men were scared off by her strongly independant personality, but he was drawn to it. It was such a different attitude than anything he had been exposed to during his master's tutelage. It caused him to question his prior behaviour and his master's orders. He started to question if he should remain loyal to his master or abandon him to serve by his lady's side. Such thoughts on his part before his first meeting with Lady Sara would never cross his mind. He had been totally and irrevocably loyal to the man who had raised him. Perhaps he'd not been the gentlest or most effusive of parents, but he was the only parent that Ian knew, and there was a bond of emotion between them, even if his master rarely acknowledged such a bond.

Shaking his head to clear it of the odd thoughts caused by the inner conflict he was under, he focused on his current task. Taking a calming breath, he attempted to seek within himself for his inner sense, what eastern martial arts called ki or chi. The well spring of a person's power. He sought through his center to reach that area of his ki that tied him to both the Witchblade and the Wielder. He sent a pulse along the trickle of the connection, hoping that his beloved Sara was sensitive enought to feel his presence. If he could not get into the grounds, perhaps he could bring Sara out to meet him.

Of course, that would only work if she trusted him more than she was willing to admit even to herself. She often denied the connection they shared, claiming that it didn't exist despite her own subconcious use of the bond to track his movements and whereabouts when she thought she had a need to find him. Oh well. He'd wait here on this bluff waiting to see if she'd come to find him. If not, at least he was better able to track her emotions now that he was conciously connecting to their bond.

BREAK

Sara paused for a moment as a strangely familiar feeling ran along her spine. She frowned and threw another punch at the heavy bag in the weight room. She and Marie had retreated here in order to escape the heavy tension of the kitchen. Neither was really in a mood to consider the heavy duty thoughts they'd shared and needed to release some of the tension. So they had retired to the fully equiped gymnasium. Sara had spotted the heavy bags and decided to partake in her second favorite form of tension relief while Marie, or Rogue as she'd told her to call when around the others, had changed into her gym outform and started doing laps around the spatious room.

She tried to continue with her workout, but her concentration was gone. Her mind started to wander to the dark, brooding stalker who so often was a source of both irritation and amusement. She struggled daily against the growing attraction she felt towards him, often lashing out at the slightest opportunity to belittle his efforts to grow closer. She still wasn't sure if she could trust him.

Oh, she knew how he felt about her, or at least, what he claimed to feel for her. But she wasn't naive enough to believe that whatever he felt towards her would automatically cause him to side with her in the long run. He was still too commited to Irons and whatever sick, twisted hold that bastard had on him. If just once, he would give her solid proof that he wished to change, that he wanted to leave Irons, she would gladly do her best to help him escape from the evil manipulative ghoul. And with his help, she could take down the corrupt businessman and the putrid rotten core that had infiltrated the NYPD. And they might even be able to address the unresolved tension that exploded into existance whenever they were within a mile of each other.

But she could not consider moving into a relationship with him while he was still under Irons' control. She wasn't stupid enough to think that Ian would put an end to his less than legal job duties so long as he still owed allegiance to Irons. There was no chance that he would refuse an order from Irons no matter how much he might wish to as long as he allowed himself to be cowed into submission by the older man. And she would never be certain of his actions until he made a public and possible physical rejection of the billionaire. Until then, she'd keep a firm lid on the emotions his presence evoked within her, partially unsure if what she was feeling was even real or a product of the Witchblade.

Ian's presence. That's what she was feeling! she thought to her self. Ian was nearby. Concentrating on the sudden increase in the sensation, she turned slowly in the room, trying to at least pinpoint the direction of the powerful presence of her erstwhile protector/stalker. Settling on a direction, she called Rogue over and asked her to run and fetch Logan.

While the teen hastened to comply, she made her way out of the gym and in the general direction of the presence. She was pretty certain that there was an exit in that direction. She wasn't worried about Ian bringing danger to her, not really. But it was rare that his presence didn't preclude the arrival of some trouble or another. So she'd rather be prepared, and she was certain that Logan would be able to provide her with some backup should something happen. And even if nothing did, it might not be a bad idea to get Logan closer to Ian and see what Ian's reactions to the admitedly handsome, and dangerous man, would be. He'd gotten quite possessive of her time lately, and it would be a good idea to remind him that she didn't belong to him.

BREAK

Ian grinned as he noticed the flare of irritation along the bond. Sara had noticed his presence. He could almost hear her thoughts, but that was a skill he held only when they within a few feet of each other and focused on each other. Unfortunately, that wasn't something that happened often enough for his taste. He knew her well enough though, to guess what she was thinking.

At the moment, she was likely trying to guess what danger he was come to warn her of, or what mischief his presence heralded. She was also likely trying to ponder wether he was here on business for Irons and what that would mean for the special nature of the students of Xavier's Institute or if he was simply here on his nightly 'stalking' of her. Ian had no doubt that his master knew of the existence and nature of the inhabitants of the manse but had no idea if his master had any current, future or even past plans regarding any within the grounds. Not for certain, anyway.

He was beginning to strongly suspect that his master was involved in some way with the wild haired man who had brought Sara to this place. There was something off about the man, his scent and the impression gained by other senses screamed to Ian that there was something even more wildly different about the man than even the most exotic natural mutation of the continued evolution of the human race. He would watch closely and try to subtly goad his master into revealing the nature of his connection to the mutant.

He had learned many tricks over his lifetime that would loosen his master's tongue, and he would use them all if need be for he felt that his master was hiding something from him. True this was not an uncommon occurance, yet he felt that this time it was something that dealt with his own past. And this was not something he could ignore. He'd spent most of his life searching for clues to his past, to the origins of his gifts. He had found much evidence that indicated that the so called gene therapy and drug treatments were nothing but mock ups and placebos. His abilities were natural.

Doing testing on his own, he'd noted an unusual factor in his blood that he had been unable to identify, yet which when he'd had a sample tested at a private lab, had had the scientist he'd furtively hired raving about the possible effects it would have on the bearer. Increased senses, enhanced healing and metabolism, and even the possibility of slowing his aging were only some of the effects this X-factor would have on him. All these effects were known to him, though he had been told they were a result of the millions spent by Irons on genetic research.

Once the news broke about the existence of mutants, he had secretely tracked down one and gained a sample of her blood. He'd found the same X-factor in her genetic makeup as his own, though her's affected her differently. Instead of enhanced senses or healing, she had the ability to absorb oxygen and moisture through her skin, effectively allowing her to breath in conditions that would kill most living mammalian creatures. He had later seen her competing in the Olympics in the distance swimming competions, an event that suited her gifts.

So how, he wondered, had he gained this X-factor? He had approved testing on the blood samples and though they had bee nable to isolate the genetic sequence for introduction into a test host, the gene had resulted in only a temporary enhancement. Further proof came as when the gene wore off, the recipient of the gene had experience a catastrophic cardiovascular failure resulting in death within hours of the failure. If the genes had been introduced to him in the manner that Iron's had claimed, he'd be dead long ago. No, the X-factor was a natural part of his genetic makeup, and he wanted to know where it was from. Where he was from.

A surge of sensation along the bond to Sara alerted him to her approach and he stealed himself to face her. Deciding to push as much as he could, he refused to face her as he usually did and stood staring out over the grounds. Sounds behind her indicating that she was not alone, and he took a second to recognize the heartbeat of her friend, as well as two others that he couldn't place.

"Hello, Sara, it's good to see you got my invitation. I was quite put out when you left without informing me of your location. It is my duty to protect you from your enemies, and I can not do that if you are so far away from me." he stated in a tone of voice he knew irritated her.

"Damn it Ian, can't you let me have even a weekend without you stalking me?" she stated as she came within normal hearing range. He could hear her heartrate increase as she approached him and the surge of irritation and arousal that ran through her whenever they were near each other.

He grinned, knowing she couldn't see it, but could feel his amusement through the bond. "Have I been stalking you, Sara? Here I thought I was protecting you from the shadows, but I suppose, that my actions could be taken as stalking you."

"You say protecting, but I never see you around when the going gets tuff, only right before the shit hits the fan and I have to use the blade to save my own ass. You follow me around, spy on me, break into my place on a regular basis, report all my movements and conversations to your master, and have my bike, phones, and weapon tapped with tracking gear and listening devices. That's stalking, Ian." Sara stated, her irritation spiking along the emotional link that connected them.

Ian spun around to face her, staring at her intently. He could hear her heart race and smell an increase in the pheromones she was given off as well as in the radiant heat given off by her body. These were classic signs of arousal and frequent fluctations Sara underwent when they were near each other. He ignored them as he always did, though he could not control his own physical reaction to her nearness. "You do no see because you do not wish to see, my lady. I am aware that you are not some meek flower to be placed on a pedestal and worshipped. You are a warrior, Sara Pezzini and I trust in your skill to protect yourself from harm. Yet many are the times I have struck from the shadows you claim I hide in to 'stalk' you, ending threats of which you were unaware. I have often given you advice in the only way I am allowed, and you call me cryptic and psychotic because I use not the common vulgar tongue of those you associate with on a daily basis. You see what the Witchblade shows you, yet you refuse to believe, even when you are in danger as the blade and I have tried to show you."

Ian approached her, standing inches from her and looking her in the eyes. He was quivering with emotion, as was she, though neither was able to name what forces where coursing through them at the moment. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled a blade from its sheath on his forearm and slid it into her grip. He moved the tip of the blade to a spot slightly above his Adam's apple and pressed it forward enough to draw blood.

He ignored the frantic approach of her new found friends as he continued to look into her soul. "If you trully hate and despise me, my lady, then do what needs to be done and end my life. For I am sworn by oaths as old as the Witchblade to serve you, in this life and in the next. If I am no more to you than a stalker and Iron's lapdog, then put me from my misery so that I may be reborn into a life that you might not find so repugnant as that which I live. My life is your's, Lady Sara Pezzini, Wielder. As it has been since the dawn of time and shall continue to be when this world has turned to cosmic ash."

He stared into her eyes and waited, allowing his feelings to flow through their connection, letting her see all that which he had previously hid from her. If she took his life, then he would die gladly, for it would be the release he so desperately needed from his master's control and this mockery of a life he was forced to live. If she spared him, then perhaps all was not lost and he could win her trust and maybe one day, her regard as a friend if nothing else. Either way, his existance was about to under go a drastic change.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sara stared deeply into Notting- Ian's eyes as she held the knife to his throat. She could see no hesitation, no doubt in his eyes. His look was almost pleading, and she knew that if she was unable to accept his terms, he would do something foolish resulting in his death. He trully believed that without at least her friendship, his life was worthless. He really believed in all the hokey mumbo-jumbo that he spouted and was willing to die by her hand for those beliefs.

She could hear Logan and the others closing in behind her, stopping about ten feet away. She had no real idea of what any of them would do or say, and didn't really care. Except for Logan, they meant as much to her as a stranger she'd run into on the sidewalk. And she knew that Logan at least would be all for her offing the man that had done to her what Nottingham and Irons had done. She knew that she would approve her driving the knife through Nottingham's throat into his brain and swirling it around until all that was left of the organ was something with the consistency of a DQ Smoothie.

She thought of all that had happened to her since first seeing Ian in that cursed museum. Gallo, Danny's death, the Witchblade, the White Bulls targetting her, Mobeius and the Black Dragons, Kenneth Fing Irons and his attempts to seduce/manipulate her, and all the psycho weird shit that she was suddenly thrust into the center of. Conchabar, Daniel, and who knows how may others had died both at Ian's hands and because of his refusal to help her. By his obeying Irons orders and being his lapdog and assassin.

She was tempted. God knew she was tempted. But she couldn't do it. As much as she fought it, there was a connection between them, one that was too powerful to deny and she hated herself for feeling it. For wanting him around, living and fighting. For wanting to have him at her side and away from Irons. Hell, for just plain WANTING him. He was her every fantasy come to life. A gentle, romantic poet, and hard core bad-ass tough guy with a body most guys would give their left nut for. He was strong, intelligent, lethal, and charming. He took pride in his talents without being egotistical, and she wondered what talents he had that she had yet to see.

Turning away from the man, she roared out her frustration and threw the dagger away. She watched it fly through the air to imbed itself hilt deep in a tree twenty feet away. Tears flowed freely from her eyes as she continued to contemplate her rotten life. 'Damn you, Ian. Damn you for making me care for you.'.

She ignored the sound of Logan approaching and the growls he exchanged with Ian. She said nothing as he came to her side and placed an arm around her shoulder. She leaned her head onto his shoulder. They stood together silently for a time, the others from the mansion coming to a stop between Sara and Ian, glaring at the bowed figure. She knew without looking that Ian had not moved except to bow his head after she withdrew the dagger.

"So what are you going to do, kid?" Logan asked breaking the silence.

Sara stared up at the stars, trying to make a desicion she'd been dreading for a while, she sighed and turned back to face Ian. "It's time I start taking control of my own life." she moved towards Ian, causing him to raise his head to face her. "And I"m starting now." she said as she stared into Ian's eyes.

BREAK

Irons frowned as he stared into the fire, swirling a large glass of brandy. He'd just finished a teleconference call with several business associates. One of whom had confirmed what he'd heard earlier that day. Ian had disobeyed his orders once again and left the city, having never even made a token appearance at following the antiquities dealer. His charge's disobedience was an incomvenience, and a disappointment, but it was one he'd deal with. He'd already begun the steps needed to solve the situation. Ian had outlived his usefulness as he was, and it was now time for the upgraded version to make his mark. He would miss his formerly faithful servant, but he had no doubt that the new, improved version would easily handle his wayward child. And as an added bonus, some of those self-same associates he'd spoken to earlier were sending some of their own special aides to aid his new servant.

Several of them were mercenaries with special gifts that elevated them above standard issue military personnel. Some even had a past with Logan, and would enjoy the challenge and the irony of essentially dealing a blow to Logan that he wouldn't even know of by killing Logan's issue. He grinned at the irony that Lgoan had no idea that Ian was his child, if not by natural means, but still a biologically connected level.

He wondered where Ian had gone, but supposed that he must have gone after the wielder. There had been several flashes of emotion through the bond he shared with her through the Witchblade, most of which the lovely Sara only felt in the presence of Ian Nottingham. The last intense feeling had been of determination and resolve. Apparently, Sara had reached some kind of desicion regarding something and had made a plan for herself. Perhaps it involved Logan and whoever had been hiding him for these last few years. From what he'd heard, Logan had been taken in like a stray by a band of do-gooder mutants and their financial backer, Charles Xavier. He had his suspicions regarding that one.

Still, he wished he could be there when Ian and Logan found out about their connection. He chuckled as the thought came to him that before they learned of it, if they ever did, they might come to blows, perhaps even killing each other over the wielder. He knew the logan thought of the child like a surrogate daughter, if he rememvered enough to recall his friendship with the late James Pezzini. And he would undoubtedly be annoyed with Ian's callous and precocious treament of the lovely detective, even if Ian had been acting on orders from his master.

He took a moment to consider the possible outcomes of a battle between the two and let a malicious grin spread on his face. While Logan's healing abilities were more pronounced and he had the imbedded Adamantium claws which would normally give him the advantage in battle, Ian had had the best training from the most feared and battle proven warriors from around the world. He had spent his entire life training to be the best possible warrior Irons could make him, and no expense had been spared. He'd been treated with advanced forms of steroids and adrenaline enhancers to increase his strength far beyond that of normal men. While it was unlikely Ian was a match for such powerful mutants such as The Blob, Juggernaut, and the like, he was much stronger than someone like Logan, who had only slightly above average strength. So with superior mental capabilities and trainging, to accompany the strength and speed advantages, Ian could more then hold his own in a battle against Logan.

It was too bad, Irons mused to himself, that I will miss any such confrontation, though I will appreciate the sensations brought about by the wielder's reactions to the conflict. He finished his drink and went to the phone, placing a call to have Ian's replacement awakened.

"I think I will call this one . .. .Christian." he said aloud, still staring into the fire. "I shall miss you, Ian. You have been a most loyal sercant. It is too bad the wielder corrupted you. No matter, Christian will soon return the withclade to me, along with the wielder's body. With the help of the mutant mercenaries I have hired, neither Ian nor the wielder stands a chance of surviving the battle."

BREAK

Gabriel Bowman was having a great day. He'd won several of his bids on Ebay, for a surprisingly lower amount then he'd thought they would take. He knew of several collectors who would be glad to take several of the items of his hand for at least twice what he'd paid for the entire collection for each piece. Not only that, but he'd also managed t oacquire his a few pieces to add to his own collections.

A friend of his had managed to track down a previously unknown parchment that he thought might be related to the Witchblade and it's history. From what his friend was telling him, it talked about a companion pice to the bracelet, an equal to it's power that was meant to be worn by the wielder's protector.

And to top it all off, his pizza had been ten minutes late, saving him $20 bucks. Pocket change, really, but hey. Free pizza is free pizza.

The only way the day could get better woudl be for Sara to drop by or call.

Seconds after having that thought, the phone rang and Gabe chuckled. He didn't bother checking the number, knowing that it had to be Sara. "Hey Chief, what's up? I've got knews for you. Gonna be getting a new lead on your piece in a couple days. Hope you can drop by."

"Sorry Gabe, but I'm gonna be out of town for a few days. Don't really know how long. I took some vacation time, Lord knows I've built up enough of it recently. Already called precinct. Dante nearly shit himself to hear me asking for time off. Told me to take a few weeks, and let him know if I wanted longer and he'd pull some strings. You could nearly hear the gears in his head turning as he planned the celebration party for the Bulls."

Gabe felt a distinctly painful surge in his ribs as his heartrate jacked up. "Uh Chief, should you be saying that on the line?"

Sara laughed. "Don't worry Gabe. This line is more secure then the Red Line to the Oval office. I'm staying with some friends right now, but I expect to be back in town by the end of the week. Look, the numbers for here are being sent to your inbox while we speak, as well as an email address that I'll have access to. You'd love this place, looks like a cross between a museum, old English manor, and school."

While talking, he had gone over to his computer and opened the email program, scanning the newest message. Seeing one labelled: "Hey Gabe", he opened it and was surprised to see that it was from a private server issued from a secure line. He ran a tracking program, and found that it was located just outside of the city, in Westchester, which was New York's version of Beverly Hills, except that the area was full of old money familes and didn't really attract the nouveau rich clique.

"Who do you know in Westchester, Chief? Hope it's not a friend of the old guy. Hey, does Nottingham know you're gone? I'd hate to have to try and lie to him if he comes here looking for you."

Sara sighed. "You don't have to worry, he somehow followed me up here. He's being held in less elaborate accomodations for the moment, though he hasn't tried anything. Don't know how he tracked me. I left my guns and cell at the aparment. Unless the bastard's rigged something on my Buell. In which case, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind."

"Okay, that's a load of my mind. I'd rather not have to deal with him too often. He freaks me out. But back to the other topic, where you staying Chief?"

"At Xavier's School for Gifted Youth. A school for kids with unusual gifts. Seems this Xavier guy found one of my dad's old friends and he helped us reconnect. He's got some pull, so I'm safe from the Bulls and Irons here, but I don't need either to know where I am."

"How you going to keep Ian from telling Irons?"

"Ian has his own issues right now. I got a flash from the Blade, seems Irons has turned his back on Ian. Somehow, Kenny boy knew about something that happened between me and Ian earlier." She seemed reluctant to go on, so Gabe decided to egg her on.

"Something happened? What did you do? Did you register under your own names?"

Sara chuckled. "Nothing like that, Gabe. Stop thinking with the head below your belt. No, it wasn't like that. Ian literally put his life in my hands. He gave me a knife, placed it at his throat and told me that if I didn't want him in my life, I should push the dagger into his brain, as he could not live without being a part of my life. He swore to do anything I wanted, even die by my hand. Since I couldn't just kill him, I just told him to shut up and do what I told him, then we came back to the mansion, and locked Ian up in the cells downstairs."

"A mansions with cells? What kind of place is that, Pez?"

"A school for mutants and also the homebase for a special deputized squad known as the Xmen. A group of powerful mutants trained to handle mutant criminals and superhuman threats that regular law enforcement like NYPD, FBI and the like can't handle."

"I've heard of them. They were considered criminals themselves for awhile, and some people still see them as vigilanties. Some people aren't too happy with their occassionally excessive use of force."

"I'm not thrilled about it myself, but everything I've seen, and the Blade's showed a bit of stuff about some of them, tells me that these are the good guys. Anyway, just letting you know where I'll be for the next little while and that I'll have some company when I get back."

"So Ian's gonna stay with you, now that he's left Irons? Good going Chief."

Sara sighed. "I'm not talking about Ian. Xavier's sending a couple of his younger Xmen to stay with me for a bit. A girl who's posing as my cousin, and a guy who's coming with her for 'moral' suppport for meeting a long lost relative. They are both pretty powerful mutants from what I understand, and between them and Ian, I'll be pretty safe from whatever Irons decides to throw at me, barring a nuke."

"Sounds cool. Be sure to stop by, though I'm not happy with Ian hanging even closer around you Chief. Who knows what kind of programming Irons shoved into his brain that he might not even know about himself. Anything else, Chief?"

"Well, I don't really trust Nottingham completely, but I'd rather have him where I can see him. That's another part of why the two are coming, to keep an eye on Ian for any . . .odd behaviour. Well, odd for Nottingham anyway. Stalking, following, and obeying my every whim seems to be on the agenda for the next little while. We'll see how it goes. Oh, I won't be telling Nottingham exactly what the gifts are for my cousin and her friend, but when we have a private moment, I'll let them tell you themselves when we're back in town. Keep safe, and stay out of Irons line of fire Gabe."

"Sure Chief. Have fun at the mansion. Maybe you can sit in in a few classes, pick up some pointers."

"Ha. Ha. Funny. ciao."

The line hung up and Gabriel shook his head. He laughed to himself as he wondered jsut how much closer Ian would be to Sara. He also wondered if he should have mentioned his new finds, but decided they could wait.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Kenneth Irons was in a melancholy mood this morning. His recent business transactions had all gone according to plan, but somehow, there was less of a thrill then usual. As he stood before the vast fireplace in his home, swirling his ever present glass of brandy, he pondered the events that had lead to the near boredom he felt. He knew the cause of the lack of enthusiasm for standard business was a result of not having Ian around to gloat over his accomplishments with, and he hoped to soon rectify a portion of that boredom with the rebirth of a more loyal and trustworthy servant. He just had to decide on a name to insert into the program, and then within a few hours, his new, more powerful version of Ian Nottingham could be 'born'. And with the help of his associates lackeys, they could track down the traitor and the Wielder and return his properties to him.

A knocking on the door to the room announced the presence of someone and he turned to look towards the door. "Enter." he stated magnaminously, feeling nearly at peace and slightly anticipating the interruption to his quiet evening.

A balding, heavy set man wearing a lab coat and carrying a clipboard entered the room timidly. "Mr Irons, you wished for me to alert you upon the completion of the 3rd level programming of the clone?" he asked in a soft, mousy voice.

Kenneth gave a twisted smile at the obvious fear the man displayed in his presence. This was the proper attitude for his servants, and he disliked the bold and forward manner of modern society. "Ah, Doctor. Is our little clone ready for the next stage already? I was not expecting to hear from you until later this evening."

"Yes sir, I didn't think it would be ready until morning, but we were able to make some minor changes in the programming to let us complete it faster. Have you chosen a name for the clone, sir?" the doctor asked, looking nervously around the cold room.

"I had thought originaly to name the clone Christian, but have decided to take a different route. Christian is still too similar to Ian for my liking. I have decided to name the clone David as something of a lark."

"David? Sir, is it from the story of David and Goliath?" the doctor hesitated to ask, knowing how little his master appreciated shows of cleverness from his servants.

Irons grinned, showing all of his pearly white teeth and looking like nothing more than a shark in human form. "I am surprised, doctor. I would not have thought of your making the connection. Though of course, in this case, David is the invicible soldier, and he is hunting a weaker Goliath in the form of Ian and the wielder."

"What of these others you have asked your associates for, sir? Can you trust that they will not betray you? Or that they will obey your orders?" the doctor asked, feeling slightly more at ease as his master didn't punish him for his questions. "Perhaps it would be best to prepare several of the clones and program them as a precaution."

Irons felt a surge of anger at being questioned, but it faded as his servant brought a good point to his attention. He pondered for a moment the implications of betrayal from his associates but dismissed it as they were too indebted to his funding to betray him. Still, it would be best to have a secondary plan of action should the Wielder and Ian somehow prevail against his forces. "Begin preparation of 5 more clones, doctor. Tweak their genetics to alter their appearances slightly, and if possible, try and force one of them into a female mold. Add in the genetic material from the current Wielder and from some of the samples provided by Magnus. Perhaps we will be able to create our own little super soldiers with the gifts of Magnus's Brotherhood as well as those of the Wielder and her so-called Protector."

The doctor nodded and added to some notes on his form. "Is there any specific abilities you would like to incorporate into the clones?" he asked studying the choices on the form. Eric Magnus had provided genetic material from a dozen different sources, ranging from those of shapeshifters to elementals and physically enhanced beings in several forms. Including material from his son and daughter, as well as his closest allies. In fact, the only one of Magnus's inner circle of the Brotherhood not represented was Magnus himself. Not knowing if his master was aware of the material available, he held out the form containing the list and waited.

Kenneth purused the list slowly, noting several intriquing possibilities. He would avoid the material of Magnus's daughter, as her gift was too unstable to be of much use without spending too much time and effort on training the clone in it's application. But his son was another matter. Having his new soldiers able to move at supersonic speeds would be quite useful. As would having the further enhanced healing and strength from the one known as Sabertooth. And the shapeshifting abilities of the one known as Mystique would be of great use. Some of the other gifts could also be useful, though he didn't neccessarily wish to deal with some of their side-effects.

"For now, doctor, implement in only two of them elemantal control of fire, as well as the supersonic speed. In the female, if possible, grant her the shapeshifters gift. In all, add in Sabertooth's enhanced healing and senses to those provided by Logan's material. I didn't notice on this list, but do you have any material from a telekinetic or telepath? Or from Magnus's enemies, the Xmen? It would be useful to have someone with Optic blasts or the ability to walk through walls or teleport."

"We don't have that material on hand, sir, but I'm sure that it would be possible to attain at least some of them. Perhaps your associates can stage some kind of battle and provide us with some samples."

Irons smiled again. This doctor was showing quite a higher level of intelligence then he'd demonstrated before. Usually, he hated those who showed such initiative and took pains to punish them, but with the loss of his most loyal servant, he needed a confidant and sounding board, and this doctor might be able to fill that role nicely. "What is your name, Doctor?" he asked, having never bothered to learn any of the lesser employees names.

"John Hanes, Mister Irons." the man stated, surprised more that Irons would even bother asking then that he didn't know.

"Dr. Hanes, I find myself in something of a quandary." Irons stated, motioning the man to the desk in one corner of the room. Irons sat in the large, impossing chair and gestured for the doctor to sit. "With the departure of Ian, I find myself in need of an assistant. Someone with whom I can discuss sensitive matters without worrying of betrayal. Someone of marked intelligence and backbone who would not be afraid to give suggestions or question me when the occassion warrents it. You are the first of my employees in a very long time to show such skills, and I would like to reward you by giving you this position. You will be placed in overall authority of all medical matters regarding all the clones, and I will trust you to make the proper decisions.

In turn, you will trust me in all matters concerning the deployment of the clones or in the acquisition of new equipment or materials. You will ask no questions regarding the source of said materials or equipment, and will perform any assigned duties I provide for you with outmost discretion. You will discuss nothing I tell you with anyone. Anything you are told regarding any of my business transactions will be treated with the same discretion you would have applied to a doctor/patient confidentiality and will be enforced most strenously. You will do what I tell you when I tell you, without hesitation. In private, you may question my orders, but in public you will obey."

Irons leaned forward, steepling his hands and peering over them at the stunned doctor. "I am granting you leeways that I have given no other, not even Ian. You will be my right hand, and will have great power over your given fiefdom of the clones and medical matters."

Dr. Hanes swallowed nervously. This was a position he knew hundreds would do anything to be in, yet he was unsure. "Will . . . will I need to do anything you ask?"

Irons leaned back, satisfied that the doctor was indeed the man he needed. "Relax, Dr. Hanes. I will ask nothing of you that is outside of your purview. I have others who are more then happy to perform needed tasks for me, and I have no need of another soldier. I need someone with a brain to watch from the side and make sure I make no further mistakes like the ones I made with Ian. Once the clones are out and programmed, I will need you to monitor them for any signs of betrayal or falsehood. Your main duties in that area will be to inform me should you find any hint that any of them are starting to behave contrary to the programming in any way. You will have authority to punish or purify them of independant thought if needed. Well, Doctor? Do you agree?"

Dr. John Hanes was not a stupid man. He knew that to deny the offer was to sign his death warrant and that to accept would give him a great deal of power and wealth. He might have gotten several doctorates in genetics and biology, but he had also minored in business and had assembled a decent portfolio with wise investments. He cared nothing really, for the secret wars between various companies or nefarious contacts Irons held, but he did enjoy the thrill of big business. Perhaps this was a chance for him to expand outside of the lab and get into the management aspect of the medical field. "I am pleased to take your offer, sir. I look forward to doing my best to aid you in anyway I can."

Leaning back, Irons gave a nearly genuine smile as his day took a turn upwards. The good doctor was exactly the type of assistant that he needed now that Ian had betrayed him. Someone independant, yet still reliant on him, who was bright enough to finish the tasks set for him, yet not so bright that he would think himself above the tasks that would be set for him. He was the top of his field and had the intelligence and initiative to accomplish his duties without constant supervision. He knew when to question and when to obey. Yes, indeed, John Hanes was exactly the type of man Kenneth Irons needed as his assistant.

BREAK

Ian was waiting patiently as he could in the small cell. He could sense the wielder moving around some stories above him and he wondered what she was doing at the moment. He again extended his senses along their connection, but found that she had blocked herself from him for the first time, and he felt a bit of pride that she was finally learning to use her gifts, even if it pained him that she was refusing his touch.

Sighing, he stood and stretched, noting that this was a quite comfortable space for a holding cell. The floor was carpeted and padded, there was a small enclosure that contained a shower and toilet, and there was a bookcase as well as a desk with a laptop. Checking the the computer over, he found that it was not connected to the outside in any way and contained several simple games and programs. There was no disc drive of any kind, and neither were there any external ports. It was a self contained machine, and he wondered why they bothered putting it in here and if it was standard in each cell.

As he'd been escorted to the cell by Logan and the rather large Russian youth, he'd noticed that there were at least a dozen cells. Each of the cells had both a barred door like normal cells and some type of forcefield. He'd noticed on entering the cell, that there was a curtain he could draw over the opening of the door for privacy and wondered at the possible ways in which he could break out of the cell without them even noticing. Then as he examined the ceiling he'd noticed that there was a layer behind the metal and cement and in that space he could hear and feel another forcefield surrounding the cell in all directions.

He carefully surveyed the overhead lights and walls, trying to find the weaknesses that would allow him to short the field, but found that the cell was more secure then he'd originaly thought. He was somehow comforted by the thought for if the cell was secure enought to hold him for any length of time then the would be adequate to hold any possible threat to Lady Sara that might attack while he was contained here. If these people had built this cell and were what he suspected, than the only way his beloved could be safer would be if he were at her side.

Deciding he had some time to kill before any one came to speak with him, he searched the bookcase and pulled out a book on the collected works of Alexandre Dumas. He'd been meaning to reread a few of these for some time, but Irons had been assigning him mostly Shakespear, who Ian personally felt overrated.

Still, while he was here, he might as well keep himself occupied, and as the cell was too small for his regular workout, the stories of the Musketeers or the imprisoned Diego could keep his mind sharp.

BREAK

Sara paced the carpet of Xavier's office again, wondering what she was supposed to do with Nottingham. He'd pretty much placed his entire future in her hands, even turning away from Irons and all the wealth the old bastard surrounded himself with. Nottingham had nowhere to go, no resources other then what he carried, and no allies except for her. He no longer was under Irons protection, and there was now every possibility that Irons might leak incriminating information to the police or press regarding the previous actions Ian had performed under Irons command.

Nottingham had served as Irons' personal assasin and underworld liason for years, ever since returning from service with the Irons funded Black Dragons. Under Irons's control, he'd broken more laws in more contries then most people ever visitted. Blackmail, coercion, murder, drug trafficking, money laundering, and a myriad of others. All ordered by Irons and done by Ian, leaving Irons' hands clean of any dirty doing.

She collapsed again into the plush chair and rubbed her temples with her fingers to try and work out the tension of her situation. She had a trained killer who was willing to do anything she wanted and was in love with her who know had no were for her to send him home to. She had to find somewhere for him to stay, or he would move to the fireplace across the alley at her place. She didn't think that he would be content to remain in the cell downstairs for long and though Summer's had explained in rather annoying detail the specifics of the cell's security, she unfortunately had faith in Ian. She doubted anyone would be able to detain him without his permission for long. Even beyond the training he'd suffered at Irons orders, he had gifts of a near magical nature. She wondered if he was a mutant at times, one with the ability to travel by shadows, the ease with which he managed to just vanish into thin air at times. Hell, he'd been a wanted felon and he's strolled into and out of a crowded police station with only herself seeing him.

"I don't know what to do. Ian's put himself in my hands and I have to take responsibility for him and his future actions. I don't know what I'm going to do with him. How am I supposed to watch him, keep an eye on Irons's actions, flush out the Bulls, and still handle the rest of my cases? It's too much. It's all too much." she stated to those in the office. Only Logan and Xavier had remained, while Scott had taken the students to assure the rest of those in the mansion that they were under no danger.

"If you wish, we can keep him here, Sara." Xavier offered. "Our cells are capable of holding beings of immense power for a protracted period of time."

Sara snorted and rolled her eyes. "No offense, Professor, but I don't think you've even had to try and contain anyone like Ian Nottingham before."

Xavier nodded, aware that while there holding cells could hold people with gifts like Mystique, Sabertooth, Blob, and even Vapor, Ian Nottingham was on a whole other level of escapism. "Perhaps if you request that he stay here, he would be willing to do so?"

Sara sighed. "That wouldn't work completely. He'd never obey an oder that kept him so far away from me. Not to mention that I wouldn't trust him so far out of my sight. He might take it into his head that the safest way to protect me would be to hunt down and kill everyone who might one day harm me. I don't want that bloodbath on my hands."

"Perhaps if you could find some task here that would keep him occupied, or if I make arrangements for a place to stay near your apartment but hidden from Irons and his spies?"

Sara looked at him and let out another sigh. She'd been doing that a lot lately. "I don't think that it's a good idea for him to stay here around the kids. He's a trained killer who doesn't have the highest regard for human life. The only person he'll ever listen to is me or possibly Irons if there's some subconcious controls he doesn't know about. I'd guess it's best that you find somewhere nearby to my place to stash him. I hate to ask it of you, but I don't know what else to do. I can't really afford to keep him anywhere and I don't want him staying with me."

Xavier smiled from his seat behind the desk. "Monetary issues are the least of my concern, Detective. My family has been wealthy for many generations and I have had the good fortune to add to their wealth. Purchasing or leasing a place for Mr. Nottingham to reside is of little concern to me. I wish only to help in keeping you and all others safe from your enemies and mine. Working together, we may accomplish more then working apart."

"I just want this all over. Irons, the Bulls. I just want it to end." She stated quietly.

Logan frowned and chomped on his cigar. "Ain't no such thing as and end, kid. Not until you're dead and buried. All you can hope is outlive those who want you dead."


	7. Chapter 7

Here's Ch7 of my Xmen/Witchblade xover. I want to thank the few people who have taken the time to review this story.

I haven't seen the show in a while, so my description of Sarah's apartment might be off. Forgive me, any major differences, well this is AU and it's my story and it will look however I want it to look. So there!

There is a point in this chap where Rogue speaks Russian to Sara in order to prove a point. I don't know any Russian. I don't want to offend any one, but I'm just going to string some syllables together. If I make any real words, it's totally by accident.

after every bit of 'Russian' I'll put a number and translate to what I mean at the end.

Oh, and Sara understand because the Witchblade translates for her, letting previous lives give her the knowledge they held.

988989898988989898

Sara opened the door and ushered her shadows into the darkened loft. It had been nearly a week since she'd last been here and it felt good to be home. The first thing she did was to toss her keys onto the table with the scattered junk mail she'd grabbed from the box downstairs. Then she hung her coat and moved into the kitchen while the two teens stood awkwardly in the open space of what passed for her living room.

"Either of you two thirsty?" she asked, opening the fridge and scrunching her nose up in disgust. She'd forgotten that Ian had been locked up until a few minutes ago and hadn't been able to restock her fridge and cupboards. It disgusted her that she'd become so used to the stalker that she'd stopped even her meager efforts to buy her own groceries and not eat takeout and leftovers all the time. All she had in the fridge right now was a few bottles of beer, some miscellaneous condiments, some rotting veggies, and an expired quart of milk. "Er, I've got tap water or tap water." she said, strangely not sensitive to showing the teens her lack of everyday life skills like grocery shopping of house cleaning.

"We're fine, Sarah." Marie stated, her duffel back still slung over her shoulder as she scanned the dingy loft. It was obvious that Sara was not the most . . . tidy of people. Various articles of clothing and the occasional dish were scatter over most of the surfaces in the open loft. One corner of the room was dominated by a weight bench and a well used punching bag, which was laying on the floor. There was a closed section that she guessed was the bedroom. A small walk next to the kitchen lead to another door which she guessed must have been the washroom. "But do you mind if Piotr takes a look around? Just to make sure that Irons hasn't had time to leave any nasty surprises for you while you were at the Mansion."

Sara waved for the huge Russian teen to look wherever he needed to. "Storage room and washroom back there. Bedroom just there, there's a little loft space above that I have some boxes and an extra bed in. I guess one of you is sleeping up there. You're in the living room, and this is the kitchen/dining room. Not really much to show you. This used to be a warehouse that was made into loft apartments like this. All open concept. I added the little closure there for my room, since I'm usually too beat after work to climb those extra stairs."

Marie nodded as the huge teen walked over to check the windows opening out onto the fire escape and the ally below. She dropped her duffel and moved to sit on a stool near the kitchen counter. Sara was still rooting around in the cupboards trying to find something that might be remotely edible. "Sara? Are you going back to work tomorrow?"

Sara paused before sighing in disgust. She closed the cupboards and moved to sit at the stool on this side of the counter. She could hear the movements of the large man as he checked all the entrances and looked for possible traps. "I was planning on it, but I might not. After all, to go back so soon might blow your cover. I should really take a day or two to show you and Piotr some of the sights. You're supposed to be tourists and it wouldn't seem right that I would leave to such young and impressionable teens along. Dante knows me too well to accept that, and so does Irons. I'm too 'responsible' to just abandon someone I'm supposed to be looking after, especially if one of them is my cousin from Russia. And a guide from his boarding school." Sara studied the younger girl. She had died her hair a lighter shade of brown, nearly a dark blonde. The streaks had needed to be died nearly black to match the brown. The white hairs had refused most pigments until they'd tried the darkest black they could find, and then they had come out a light brown, forcing them to die the rest of her hair to match.

"Are you sure you can handle that part? I mean, your accent is obvious and people might find it hard to believe that a Southern Belle is going to a Yankee boarding school and acting as an interpreter and translator for a Russian boy also going to the same school."

Marie grinned, and let a little of the Rogue out. "Piotr hamor Katerina. Es wa una wa woor ute. 1"

Sara grinned, throwing a glance up and catching the youth coming out from the direction of the bathroom. "Don't worry, I won't tell any one. So, while I was at the mansion, Logan pretty much talked about you. Even when we talked about my Dad, he kept bringing you up. How'd you meet him?"

Marie smiled, and removed her gloves. She felt comfortable with Sara, enough to relax more then she ever did at the mansion. "Well, I always wanted to see Alaska, so when my mutation kicked in and I had ta leave home, I made my way north..."

9898989898989

Irons smiled as he studied the 6 beings working out in the private enclosure deep beneath his corporate headquarters. One of the beings was a near perfect replica of his lost assistant, but there were differences among the others. This was David, who had been granted the powers of several mutants, while the physical changes had been kept to an absolute minimal.

One was a female, and looked remarkably like Sara, though some of the features were painful reminders of Ian. She was likely an extremely close approximation of what a daughter of Ian and Sara's would look like. She had been named Jessica, though Irons didn't understand the reference to popular culture.

Another was also much like Ian, though his hair was white and eyes were white and he was leaner then the musculature of Nottingham's form. He was moving rapidly around the obstacles in the course, more quickly then Irons had ever seen anyone move. Almost more quickly then Irons could make out. Sometimes he was only a blur.

A third form seemed bloated and deformed, and Irons felt a surge of disgust at the unsightly appearance of the man. Then he saw the man continue moving forward, despite being faced against a bulldozer. He was pushing the bulldozer backwards, in spite of the whine of the powerful engine and the traction of its treads. Then the man put his huge hand under the scoop and lifted, tossing the 30 ton vehicle aside like it was nothing more then a child's toy. Irons was impressed, though he wished they'd been able to grant the strength without the horrid appearance. He had been given the name Jonas.

The fourth man was rather larger then the Nottingham mold Irons had crafted. He had long, blonde hair and his eyes were totally black, no whites at all. His incisors, both upper and lower, were much more pronounced then normal, and the rest of his teeth were much sharper then human norm. His fingers were tipped with two inch long nails that were more like claws then nails. He was currently slicing those claws through the throats of the 'hostiles' in the training exercise, and laughing as the blood splattered around him. He had chosen the name Gato Noche, or Night Cat.

The fifth figure was unarmed and using some form of ability to lift large boulders and throw them at the enemies. He had rather stringy hair, and was very lean, appearing almost emaciated compared to David and the others. But when his eyes clouded over, and he concentrated on his gift, he was one of the most powerful of the 6. The base donor for his genetic enhancements had enough skill and raw power that if he lost control, he could sink islands and shatter continents. This man, named Rocky, was not that strong, but he could still cause huge areas of damage.

The last figure was a bit different. He was bald and walked with a pronounced limp, seeming almost to lurch instead of walk. Irons would have had him put down, but the doctors had explained that his lack of motor skills was due to an excess of mental abilities. He had the quartet of mostly mental gifts. Telepathy, Telekinesis, Empathy, and Teleportation. Most of his genetic material came from a mutant called Mesmero, though some had bee retrieved from other sources. Including a few from the ranks of Magneto's former friend and colleague, Charles Xavier. It had been a surprise for Irons to learn that the renowned geneticist and activist was a mutant, though he know understood why the man was always so adamant about the equal treatment of mutants under human law. This amalgam had chosen the name Darken Tom.

Irons snorted and turned away from the simulation. He had no wish to treat either mutants or humans as his equals. There was only 1 possible equal for him, and she had chosen to side against him. So be it. Sara Pezzini had signed her death warrant and the beings below were his tools to achieve that goal. He would see her dead and retrieve his property, then go about finding a more tractable female to wield the ancient weapon. He'd lived this long, and would live on. He would need to make certain that her body was not mistreated or destroyed as he would need her blood to further extend his existence until the next True Wielder rose through the ranks of pretenders.

For now, his team was almost ready, and Magnus had made arrangements for his own team to begin arriving in the next few days. He could feel a throb along the link he shared to the Wielder and was aware that she had returned to the city. She seemed a little tense, but nothing of any major concern.

Hum. He didn't want to use his new troops just yet, but perhaps his old troops could be of some use. He would contact Dante and have him set a surveillance team on Sara. And he'd contact a few of his more . . . mundane associates and have them put her under watch as well. He couldn't feel Ian near the wielder, so the betrayer was elsewhere. Hopefully, the twin attacks of surveillance would cause her to become sloppy and return to where ever she had hidden the assassin.

In the mean time, he would gather what evidence he had of Ian's many brushes with the law. Should the worst happen, he could at the very least bring Ian down with him. There was no deal possible to exonerate Ian's wrong doings in the eyes a court of law. Certainly, he had ordered each of Ian's transgressions, but that didn't preclude Ian's having denied involvement and responsibility for his own actions. After all, who would believe in brainwashing and mental conditioning?

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Ian studied the board intently, trying to see the easiest way to win the game. He'd already played several matches against Xavier, and had surprisingly lost all of them. It had taken him almost 8 games before he'd realized that Xavier was a telepath and using his gift to give him a bit of an edge. He'd then concentrated on the mental blocks he'd learned at the hands of Buddhist masters, and the next couple of games had been closer, but he had still yet to win. It was the first time since his early teens that he was so outmatched.

"I concede the match, Professor. You shall have checkmate in 5 moves and there is no moves for me to make to avoid the conclusion." he stated, tilting his black king over once again. "I must admit, Professor, that once I realized that you were a telepath, I thought I would be able to block you from reading my mind. However, it seems you were able to go through my blocks easily."

Xavier chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "I will admit, Ian, that I used my gifts to test you during the first dozen games, but I had not even attempted their use since I detected your blocks. I defeated you not by reading your mind, but by making you believe I was reading your mind, thereby forcing you to second and triple guess your solutions. On several occasions, you began a move but withdrew. If you had not second guessed your self you would have defeated me at least as many times as I have beaten you. Aside from those first 10 games."

Ian reviewed his performance during the games and the paranoia that lead him to several times cancel a planned move because of his belief that the professor was reading his mind and setting a trap. His mind had not been violated, but he had set the traps himself by means of his self-doubt. He'd allowed himself to be intimidated by Xavier's abilities, something that all his training had been designed to prevent. No one and nothing was supposed to intimidate him. He'd faced far more challenging opponents, in both real world wetwork situations and in game sims and chess then Xavier, yet he'd allowed the man's mutation to distract his usual abilities. "Kan Gera saowne colnaret. 2"

"Hat saowne comrade Ian. Laxs ne egi prodeasn ew jinemiru. 3" The professor gave a mild grin at odds with the stern posture he usual projected. "I knew that once you realized exactly what my gift was, you would assume that I would continue to use my gift in an attempt to get an advantage against you during our games. So every time you came up with a move that would give you an advantage you couldn't believe that I hadn't scanned your mind and seen what you were doing and planned enough steps ahead of you that you couldn't keep up. Using more common vernacular: I bluffed. I showed my hand early so you'd think I would use it all the time, then switched pace in mid-stride while you continued to play with the knowledge of my telepathy forcing you to rethink and over think your strategy. If you had gone with you initial moves each time, you would have beaten me an equal number of times as I would have defeated you."

Ian blinked while processing the clarity of the professor's statements. "I will need to consider that during my next meditation sessions. It is against all my training to second guess my self in any situation, be it a game of chess or a Black Ops mission. I am supposed to have been given the best instruction in all fields that money can buy and should be incapable of falling to self-doubt or intimidation. Yet I allowed your gift to do just those things. I need to go over my training to see if there is some flaw that I have missed, some remnant of human failure that should not exist in my psyche." Ian stood and moved from the cell door as the force-field reactivated. He stood staring blankly at the wall, ignoring the professor as the old man gathered the pieces into the designer case and turned his electric chair away from the doors.

"Sara has arrived safely?" he asked quietly, knowing that the microphones in the cell would pick it up and transmit it to a station which would send it to the professor.

"She and her charges have arrived home safely, Ian. Piotr has done a visual inspection of the apartment, including all entrances and the fire escape with the aid of a portable device to locate and electronic spyware or explosives left behind. It seems that Sara's enemies have not attempted to breach the sanctity of her home. But do not worry Ian. I have had some contacts of mine purchase the adjacent building to Sara's and you shall be relocated to an apartment across from Sara's. Logan shall go with you to make sure that you behave yourself, and you will be expected to refrain from harming anyone. And should it come to a battle, you will need to show restraint from lethal retaliation against any possible enemies."

Ian turned back to the professor. "I'll do my best to abide by my Lady's wishes, but if any one harms her, I will not be responsible for my actions." He stared at the bald wheelchair bound man, allowing some of the flickering rage he felt at the thought of any one harming his beloved Lady to show in his eyes. "And your team had better not interfere."

Xavier felt a cold chill run along his non-responsive spine and was filled with sorrow at the thought of any one trying to harm the likable woman he'd met just a few days before. He had no doubt that Ian would see through on his threat, and for a moment was filled with pity for anyone stupid enough to attempt to harm the detective.

She currently had two of the most lethal men on the planet watching her back. And as long as they didn't kill each other, between them they could handle nearly any threat that would arise. Especially with the help of the powerful young mutants Rogue and Colossus at their side, not to mention that the detective herself was a formidable foe. He'd had opportunity to witness her prowess in the Danger Room, though they had not allowed Ian to know of the rooms existence. He was tempted to offer Ian a chance to partake of the rooms special nature in order for him to release some of the tension wrapped in his form ,but decided that he could wait until he and Logan had left the mansion before seeking a means of release.

With a sigh, Xavier wheeled down the hall, wondering if any of his students had bothered completing their assignments from yesterday or if they'd blown them off yet again.

AN

1. Piotr loves Kitty. He's too shy to tell her.

2. Good game, professor sneak.

3. Not sneaky friend Ian. Just an old student of humanity.


	8. Chapter 8

Here's Ch8 of my Xmen/Witchblade xover. I want to thank the few people who have taken the time to review this story.

I've never been to New York, and didn't really feel like looking up a Toursist Guide to the are, but if my tour goes more then the described length of time in the chapter below, I'll look up some things. Most of what I posted are the big ones, Statue of LIberty, Ellis Island, Central Park. Things like that that everyone knows, that teens might be interested in. I might add more later.

I will be looking for maps of Central Park, or some areas anyway, since I want to stage a big fight in the area then have it proceed to the subway. So I might look for subway maps as well. When I get the time to do so.

If anyone already has them digitized, and has a spare moment or two, please feel free to email copies of the images or schedules with C.Park as the subject line.

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"So where should we go first?" Sara asked her young houseguests/bodyguards after they finished their meal. They'd woken early to get some sightseeing done, and had stopped at a little dinner Sara new for breakfast.

Marie just shrugged and finished her bagel. She usually would have a large breakfast, but knew that they'd be moving around all over town today, and had decided that instead of large meals, she'd just snack on whatever was available at their stops. She didn't really have any particular places she'd prefer to see and she also didn't have any she'd particularly want to avoid. "Why don't we go see the Statue first? Piotr's always wanted to see it up close."

Sara and Piotr blinked and exchanged looks. Each thought that the Statue would be the last place that Marie would want to visit after what had happened to her the last time she'd been there.

"I vould not vish to upset you by going there, after vat Magneto did to you, tavarich." Piotr stated in his calm bass. "I can visit the Lady another time."

Marie frowned a little, not comfortable with having to explain why she didn't mind going back. "Actually, Piotr, I wouldn't mind going to see her myself. What happened to me was terrible, but it's not the Statue's fault. It's Eric's fault. He's too fixated on the horrors he's seen in his life and he's forgotten about the good things humans have done."

"Eric? Who's Eric?" Sara asked. She'd heard the story about Marie's adventure at Ellis Island and the Statue, but she'd never heard anyone mention the name Eric.

"Eric is Magneto's real name. Eric Lenshner. He was a survivor of Austwitz prison camps as a child. The Nazi's learned about his powers and experimented on him." Marie took a drink from her tea, feeling a lump rise in her throat as the memories of the horrible things the innocent boy Magneto had been experienced rose within her. She pushed them to the back of her mind in order to continue trying to explain herself. "I'm not tryin' to defend' him, but I do understand what he's tryin' to do, 'ven if I don't agree with how he's doin' it."

Sara shrugged and finished the last piece of bacon on her plate. She couldn't sympathize or disagree with someone who's ideas she'd never really thought of or considered. Her life hadn't exactly been a bed of roses, even long before she'd heard of the Witchblade, but she'd channeled her anger and pain into something constructive and generally accepted by the population. From what she'd heard, Magneto had taken his pain and turned against the society that had fostered the ideas and mistaken beliefs of racial segragation and superiority. Instead of turning away from those beliefs, he had taken them and twisted them into a belief that his people, Homo Superiouer were the superior race and that humans were nothing but a mistake that needed to be extinguished for his race to flourish. Otherwise humanity would continue todegrade and enslave his people. It seemed to her that the guy had a Messiah complex the size of Texas.

"Anywhere's good for me. We'll skip cabs, and take the subway and other publix transportation. We can go see the Statue and Ellis Island today, then maybe take in one of the stuff going on in Central Park. There's some kind of show going on this week down there. An outdoor fair of some kind." Sara stated, leafing through the lifestyle section of the complimentary table paper.

"That would be a good start." Piotr stated, finishing off his double order of the 4 egg omelot and side order sausage. He'd eaten half-again as much as both Sara and Rogue combined. "Then perhaps tomorrow we could take a tour of Central Park and some of the historic buildings. My sister always wanted to see RadioCity Music Hall. I would enjoy being able to send her some images of some of the places she has dreamed of seeing."

"Well that takes care of today and tomorrow. Let's leave the rest of the week open for now." Marie stated, wiping her new, specially designed skintone latex gloves. She pulled a small amount of cash from her pocket and checked it against the bill, leaving a generous tip. Sara had originally protested, but Marie had firmly announced that all expenses for the time she and Piotr stayed with her were being paid by the Professor. He'd even given her and Piotr credit cards to help cover costs, and Logan had slipped Marie about $3000 in cash with instructions to enjoy her miny vacation from the chaos of the Institute. He'd told her he expected her to return to the Institute with no more then $100 left. And that he expected her to spend most of that money on herself, and not him or her friends.

The three gathered their belongings, and left the small dinner, not paying attention to the other customers. A few moments later, a young woman dressed in Goth style finished her coffee and dropped some bills on the counter. She stood and left. Thedinner had a small vestibule with a set of inner and outer doors that allowed those coming in from outside to shake off the worst of the weather before tentering the warmth of the dinner. The goth woman entered the vestibule from the inside, yet the person leaving the vestibule into the early morning sidewalk traffic was a smartly dressed, blond woman carrying a briefcase instead of a school bag.

The woman looked around, spotted the tall form of one of her targets and continued to walk along, remaining well behind and out of the range of three's senses. She pulled a cell phone from one pocket and hit the #1 speed dial function. The other line rang twice before picking up, with no greeting. "They just ate breakfast at Mike's Dinner, two blocks from the Wielder's apartment. They plan to go to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island this mornin and some sort of event in Central Park later today." She waited silently, ignoring the teeming throng of people around her as she watched her pray enter one of the subway system terminals. She remained well behind, not bothering to try and get on the same train, as she watched them enter and the train pull out. "They took the #5 Train, Car 312 at Eastdown Station. Instructions?" She took a moment to study the people around her with a grimace of disgust. "Very well. I shall return immediately. Estimated arrival is 20 minutes." She hung up the phone and went towards the public washrooms located nearby.

Once in the washroom, she checked for any other people and finding none, proceeded the sinks. She placed the briefcase on top and opened it, revealing that it contained nothing but a school bag. She placed the cell phone inside the case and shut it. She then pressed a hidden button on the handle and dropped it into the large garbage near the door. A hissing sound filled the room as the acid was released from it's containment and started melting the pieces of no longer usefull equipment.

Seconds later, the door to the facility opened, and a black youth walked out, making sure no one was in the mini hall that separated male and female washrooms from the rest of the station. The youth then adopted a slouch and sloppy body posture and made his way to the crosstown express that would bring him to the closest station to his Master's base. He trusted that his leader had a second team ready to meet the Weilder and the new arrivals at the Ferry Station. For now, his job was down, and the test of his abilities was a success.

Hopefully, the rest of the Newborns would also complete their tests successfully, and they could go into real action. Jessica was looking forward to her first true combat, and she knew that her 'brothers' were also eager to punish the traitorous Nottingham and his beloved Sara Pezzini.

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Ian ground his teeth as the music continued to blare out of the stereo of the truck he was currently a passenger in. The truck was being driven, at outrageously inappropriate speeds, by the one known as Logan. Of all the mutants Ian had encountered during his incarceration at the Xavier Institute, Logan was one of only two that got on his nerves. The other was the annoyingly waspish Jean Grey. The woman was overly blatant in her attempts to garner attention from the male half of the population of the mansion, even if her so-called fiancee ignored her rather open and forward manner of seeking affection from the male gender. He'd greeted her politely when she pompously introduced herself as though expecting him to fall at her feet begging for her affection like many of the other males. Then he had proceeded to ignore her unless she asked him a direct question pertaining to the matters at hand.

He'd noticed that aside from the fiancee, the male she'd worked her charms hardest towards was the one seated next to him. It hadn't taken him long to note that while Logan might be physically attracted to the woman, he had no other interest in her. He doubted the feral mutant would refuse the opportunity to bed the statuesque red-head, but he sensed that there was no deeper regard for her in the brooding, scowling man's inner depths. And the red-head only played with him in order to keep her fiancee in his place, and to keep the other men of the little closed community (most either in or just barely out of their teens) guessing about the possibility. Logan's greatest emotional investement was in the Southern pixie that was currently accompanying Ian's beloved.

So Ian had felt nothing but disgust towards Grey, and had kept his distance, calming himself in her presence with images and thoughts of his beloved, and the dangers she could potentially be facing while he was so far from her side. He sensed nothing from their link, except for a mild amusement, and he recalled that Sara was playing at tour guide today for the two young mutants who had travelled with her. His fear for her saftey rose slightly recalling that she only had those two young souls to aid her, but he forcibly calmed himself and reminded himself of the fact that each was blessed with a powerful gift.

"While I appreciate the mode of transport, what has been done with my vehicle?" he dared to ask his silent companion.

Logan turned so that he could see Ian while still keeping an eye on the road. He'd learned his lesson well after the incident in Northern Alberta. While he had survived the crash caused by Sabertooth's downed tree, he was not eager to repeat the experience. The problem with enhanced healing that he refused to mention to anyone was that while it did speed your recovery, it also meant that you experienced the entire pain from that recovery in the same shortened span. So for most, while it would take months to recover from that accident and a great deal of pain during those months, it meant that while it had taken him barely minutes, he'd also FELT those months of pain all at once.

"Scooter and Iceoboy will bring the SUV to a parking garage and drop the keys at a safe haven for you to get later. I have two bikes in the back of the truck for us to get around town in. It will be easier to handle the traffic in the city on them then in this thing." Logan stated. The truck they were currently using was a large cargo hauler the likes of which moving companies used. There was some furniture in the back, but the space was mainly filled with two dark, hulking machines that would enable them to manouver the clogged traffic of New York city and the 5 burroughs much more easily then a more passenger friendly vehicle. Logan and Ian would be posing as movers for a couple moving into the loft across the street from Pezzini's apartment, which would allow them to keep tabs on the neighborhood. This placed them nearby should the trio of Sara, Marie and Piotr run into trouble that they couldn't handle on their own.

"I will need to make a stop at a . . . safe house of sorts." Ian stated calmly, continuing to look out the side window.

"What for?" Logan asked, reaching over and turning down the stereo. His test had shown that Nottingham did indeed have enhanced hearing, and that meant he likely had increased eye strength and sense of smell as well. He wasn't sure if the former assassin had a strength factor, but he was stronger then human norm. He also seemed to have a healing factor like Logan's own, if not as powerful.

"I have no doubt that by this time, Irons has concluded that I have betrayed him and sidded with the Wielder. This means he likely activated my replacement, and that my accounts and access has been removed from his properties. Luckily, I have planned for such an eventuality and have set aside both funds and supplies at several locations unknown to Irons in the Burrroughs, and in several major cities world wide. I might have been his lackey, but I was aware that there might come a time when I would have to choose been loyalty to him, and loyalty to a greater force. This lifetime, I hoped I would have the strength to make the right choice, and luckily enough, I have."

"What do ya mean, this life time?" Logan asked, slowing down to turn into the proper entrance for the free way. They were about an hours drive now from Manhattan, and he hoped to learn more about the enigmatique man seated next to him. There was something familliar about the man's presence, something that tickled his senses, but refused to be named.

Ian sighed and looked over at the man. "It is a long, involved story, taking place over many lifetimes and centuries. Are you sure you wish to hear it?"

Logan thought for a moment. He wasn't one usually for any story that started with the words long and involved or any of their synonymns, but he was curious to see where this was heading. Ian was somehow connected to Sara, and it had to do with that little piece of jewelry the girl had picked up. She'd told him a condensed version of her recent life, but he wanted to learn more about her. He remembered nearly everything about the time frame that he'd met her father, and he wanted to learn what had happened since his last memory of driving off on the bike heading for Canada and seeing her wave goodbye.

So with Logan's approval, Ian went into the history of the Witchblade and the lives of those it had enraptured.

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AN:

Hope you liked it. I did. Not a lot of action, but there's a fight coming up soon.

1 thing. Over 1000 have read the story, but only 3 have reviewed. What gives? I usually don't beg for reviews, but I would really like some feedback on this. Heck, I have some stories with over 6000+ people who've read(since I've been able to track) with about 150 reviews. Even that is low I feel. I know not everyone reviews when they read a story, and I don't have the Chapter individual stats, so maybe people aren't getting past the 1st chapters of my work, but I do feel that a story should get at least 5-10 percent of the people who read a story should review it. Even just a simple, Keep going, or This bites, Try harder.

Just to let the author know that it's not just the same 5 people reading the story dozens of times (which is something I am guilty of myself. I find a good story, no matter the mediumbooks, articles, net stories, whatever, and I reread it over and over again.

So please, take 30 seconds, hit the review button, and just type in hi, or stop this or wahtever, just let me know that people are reading the story and not just clicking it by accident. And if you want to post a real review or opinion, do it from the last chapter, so that I at least know that someone either whent through them all or got an alert about the new chapter.

Thanks.


	9. Chapter 9

Here's Ch9 of my Xmen/Witchblade xover. I want to thank the few people who have taken the time to review this story.

I've never been to New York, and didn't really feel like looking up a Toursist Guide to the are, but if my tour goes more then the described length of time in the chapter below, I'll look up some things. Most of what I posted are the big ones, Statue of LIberty, Ellis Island, Central Park. Things like that that everyone knows, that teens might be interested in. I might add more later.

I will be looking for maps of Central Park, or some areas anyway, since I want to stage a big fight in the area then have it proceed to the subway. So I might look for subway maps as well. When I get the time to do so.

If anyone already has them digitized, and has a spare moment or two, please feel free to email copies of the images or schedules with C.Park as the subject line.

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Logan cocked an eyebrow as he watched the black glad assasin work his way up the fire escape on the warehouse he'd directed Logan to find. They had driven most of the way in silence after their chat earlier. He still didn't trust Nottingham as far as he could throw him, but the man seemed sincere in his desire to protect Sara from his former employer. He just wasn't sure if Nottingham would be able to overcome his decades of conditioning to obey and protect Irons' above all else. When push came to shove, he wasn't sure Ian would be able to disobey an order from Irons.

He would keep an eye and ear on Ian and make sure that whatever happened, Sara would be safe. He owed it to her father, for helping him so long ago. He was glad that some of his memoreis were coming back, especially those not related to pain or suffering and war. Those memories seemed to be coming back quicker then the more enjoyable or mundane ones. He glanced around the dark street of the warehouse, wondering what kind of neighbors Nottingham had for his safe house and how safe it really was. Judging from the run down and deserted feels of the block, he doubted there were any serious trheats nearby and that someone like Irons would even think of seeking Ian in this environment. It wouldn't fit the ego driven fool's opinion of himself and his training of Ian that Nottingham would seek to hide in such decrepit squalor when he had the means of hiding in more . . . comfortable establishments.

A faint sound from the alley across the street reached his ears and he turned to look, using one hand to remove the seatbelt in case he had to move quickly. He relaxed only slightly as he noticed that the figure was Nottingham. A discreet sniff told Logan that the man was now sporting a small artillary on his person, and he could even get teh scent of metal polish and could guess that it came from several blades Nottingham must be sporting in addition to the fire arms. Nottingham was also carrying a black duffel back with a gold dragon inlay on the side.

Nottingham pulled open the door and pushed the duffel into the space behind their seats, he also withdrew a long, sheated katana from his coat lining and placed in on the dash before sliding into his seat. He caught Logan's inquisitive gaze at the weapon and allowed a ghost of a smile to cross his face. "A servicable weapon of solid quality, but not as well crafted and powerful as the blade I left in my quarters at the mansion. I hope to retrieve that weapon as it was a gift for services rendered during a brief rebellious phase I worked through prior to being sent to join the Black Dragons unit for special training."

Logan grunted and replaced the seatbelt. He'd gotten into the habit of wearing the damn things since Marie kept teasing him about what happen the first time they were in a vehicle and he didn't wear it. The moving van started up with a roar and they were off to finish their role as movers into the newly purchased building across from the apartment of one Sara Pezzini.

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Marie laughed gently as she watched Piotr making odd faces and poses next to the scale module of the Statue that towered above them. The model was at slightly larger then life scale, and stood about 6 feet tall, but was dwarfed by the height and width of her friend's massive frame. Even without transforming into his biometallic form, he looked more solid and firm then the cast iron replica of the famous icon. She wondered what it would look like for his transformed body to stand next to the replica, and smirked, knowing that in that form, he could make the REAL Statue look fragile and soft.

Beside her, eating a large pretzel, Sara was shaking her head at the antics of her two young charges. She'd had more fun today with these two then she'd had in a long time. There had been no sense of forboding or coming danger, though she had felt a few times like they were being watched, but had been unable to spot any body following them. None of the people around them had been at any of the other places that they'd been, and she'd seen none of the familiar faces of Irons' other lackeys. So she'd been able to relax more then usual and enjoy the day sharing her pride in her city with two people from such different and diverse origins from her own.

'Who would have thought,' she mused to herself while watching the two carefree teens horsing around, ' That a citygirl, a Southern Belle, and a Russian farmboy would have so much in common.' She finished her pretzel and dropped the wrapper into the bin before going to corral the two teens.

"Okay you two, break it up. Time to go upstairs." she stated, interupting their nascent tickle war.

The pair finally calmed enough and gathered their things, each ahving brought a small back pack with supplies they might need throughout the day. Different shoes, a change of clothing, little snacks and bottles of water. The typical day trip kind of things.

Once ready, they made their way over to the elevators, not wanting to walk up the vast number of stairs. The ride up was interesting, with the two struggling to supress their laughter the whole way. They reached the top and made their way over to the observation windows, looking out over the bay towards the city. Sara felt a familliar pang as she indicated several famous buildings, but only able to show the now large gap in the skyline that used to be inhabited by the most famous of them all. The loss of the Towers had hurt and pained every citizen of New York, even those with no connection to the workers or rescuers involved in the sadly historic events of Sept 11, 2001.

She shook her head to turn it away from those depressing thoughts to more pleasant occupations. She got the two to use the coin operated observation scopes to get a closer look at the city and the surrounding water ways. They each took one, zoming in on individual ships and different areas of the city. She studied the crowd, playing the Tourist game all native New Yorkers played. She immediately spotted several first timers and a few Newbies to New York living. She could also spot a few repeat customers to the Big Apple. She then switched to study them with her detectives eye, trying to work out histories and stories for each of the couple dozen people in the observation deck.

It was a game she and Danny had started when they'd first joined the Academy in order to help hone their observation skills. They'd usually pick out a few people, tell each other what they thought was their story, and try and subtly find out how close they were by trying to listen in on conversations the people held. Sometimes Danny would just go up and introduce them and tell the person what they were doing and asking if they were right, but Sara had never felt comfortable enough to do that herself. She'd been right more often, but Danny had always come up with the most ridiculous stories.

She glanced down at the jeweled gauntlet on her arm and felt a moments fondness for the magical object. She'd had strange flashes her whole life that hadn't always made sense to her. Not that she'd tried to make sense of them, having learned young that it was best to ignore them if she didn't want her parents worrying over her. She knew now that the flashes had been part of the gifts that all weilders held, even before they encountered the Witchblade.

She knew that she should try and work with the blade and gain control of the visions and other gifts it bestowed on her, but she'd been afraid of doing so as she saw it as loosing a part of who she was. Her time with the mutants of Xavier's institute had shown her that it was alright for her to be different. That she didn't need to hide what she could do. She might never be as open as some of the mutants she'd been introduced to, but it was time to stop hiding and accept that the Witchblade was a part of her now and that she needed to exercise her gifts. And now that Irons was firmly against her, she'd have to rely on Nottingham and Gabriel for learning how to properly use the sentient weapon and not be stuck on going by instinct and letting the blade control her.

"So having fun you two?" she asked as the pair had started a game of tag around one of the large units.

Piotr stood to his full height, not noticed the looks and gestures of the other patrons to the historic monument. "Da. It has been a good day, Sara. I am looking forward to visitting Central Park and seeing the festival. It is a Russian fair with a circus and acrobats. It has been many years since I have been to a real Russian circus. The troupe at the fair is one I saw when I was little boy in the Motherland. My father saved up long time to afford take us all to see it in Moscow."

"Will ther ebe those dancing bears? I never liked how they show them being treated and forced to learn to do those tricks." Marie asked, wrinkling her nose as she recalled the documentary she'd watched long before she'd ever heard the word mutant.

"Nyet. The family who runs this circus never treated the animals with cruelty. They are known as one of kindest families to run circus. They have very good aerialists and tumblers, and nice clown act and other things. A group of strongmen showing feats of strength and clowns circling in the crowd. It is most pleasing experience of my childhood."

"Then I'm glad you'll be able to see it again, Piotr. We can stop at a shop and get another memory card for the digital camera and you can send both home to your sister." Marie stated with a smile. "Maybe we can get one of those Digital Video Recorders. Then you and her can send each other the discs with images on them. That would be cheaper by weight them large packs of pictures. Ah, does you family have a computer?" Marie didn't want to offend her large friend but didn't know how prevelant the devices were in that part of the world.

"Da. My father got new computer from grant by government to keep track of equipment and harvest loads so they send proper payments. They even have digital satellite internet to reach Board of Agriculture. My sister is very good with machines and is wanting to go to University in Moscow to study computers. She wants to make programs and learn to make better computers." Piotr was rightfully proud of his beloved sister. And of his father, who had become very adapt at the machinces himself, despite initial grumblings about western interference in Russian lives.

"See? We'll stop at Radioshak or something, use those cards the Professor gave us, and buy the camera and some discs to send home. Then you and her can start sending each other pictures and video about stuff that's happening to you." Marie was very excited at the prospect of helping her friend bridge the distance from Russia to Westchester.

"That is a good idea, Marie." Sara said, having followed the conversation while they moved back to the elevator. She was discreetly looking around, trying to see if there was a familiar face in the crowd up here. She was getting that 'being watched' feeling but she didn't recognize anyone.

Still, she might mention to the others to be on their guard. Something was tracking their movements, even if she couldn't tell what it was. Something that was likely connected to Irons, but could just be one of those Brotherhood people Xavier had told her about. She wasn't the only one to have enemies, after all. Mutants had more then there share of enemies, including some members of the government and military, other mutants with different beliefs then them and that NeoNazi KKK group calling themselves Friends of Humanity. She snorted. From what she'd heard, the only humanity they were friends of were of the white-skinned, rednecked variety. They had some token minority members, but it was largely just another white supremacy group as far as she could tell from their literature and the few she'd encountered in booking. If they had Shields, they'd fit right in with Bruno and the White Bulls.

Oh well, more important stuff to think about. Like whether she should ger Duracell or Everlast batteries to go with the camera Marie and Piotr were buying.

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Irons swirled his brandy around in his glass, studying the chessboard before him. He had invited the doctor to come and chat with him over a game. He was finding this much more satisfactory then playing Ian, as the younger man had become somewhat repetitive and unimaginative in his play since encountering the fair detective at the museum some months ago. Nottingham had always been a decent challenge, but as of late he'd been overly forward in beating Irons during all their matches and doing so with rather uninspired play. Irons appreaciated a little spontaneity in his opponents, but also some predictability, and Nottingham had been playing with neither.

He replaced the crystal on the side table and made his move, taking the doctor's knigtht with his bishop. This left his bishop open to attack, but also made it so that when the bishop was taken, he could move his queen in for check. There was only one move to avoid check, and after that, he could bring his rook over and get check mate.

"Your move, Dr. Hanes." Irons stated while relaxing back into the chair.

John Hanes studied the board and recognized the trap his employer had set . There was no possibility of beating the trap so he had only 2 options, neither of which would do more then delay his defeat. He chuckled, and tipped his king over. "I concede, Mr. Irons. You have checkmate in 2 moves. All I can do is extend that to 4 at most. Well played, sir."

"It was an excellent diversion, Doctor. Now, tell me. What news on my newest acquisitions? How is their training coming along?"

"Quite well actually. There have been a few field tests. Nothing complex or dangerous, but I have had Jessica follow Detective Pezzini this morning, and Syl tracked them through the city and reported their location to the tracking teams you assigned to her." the doctor finished his glass and noted that Irons had finished his own, suggested a refresher. Once he resumed his seat, he pulled out a Palmtop computer to study the notes he'd been making on their progress. "They have adapted well and showed no sign of an instability either mental or physical. David has been accepted as their leader and they are loyal to him, and he to you. I tried a false account of your seeking their deaths for being failures of you vision, and before I could stop him, David had drawn a blade and slit his wrist and the others were not far behind him in similar attempts. It took some time, but I was able to convince them that they need not worry, that you were pleased with their progress. They never even noticed that their wounds healed at a much higher rate of speed then normal people."

"Well done, doctor. I assume that you have told them that I expect them to be both physically and mentally superior to their predecessor? That you have increased their mental apptitude as much as their physical."

"I have done what I could to increase their capacity. Each has already mastere a dozen languages. As they are designed to work as a team, they were taught 6 of the more widely used languages and told to pick six languages of their own. Each can speak English, Spanish, French, German, Japanese, and Mandarin Chinese. Each also learned 2 other dialects of Chinese and then picked diverse languages. Syl decided on Italian, Jessica learned Swiss, David learned Hebrew and Islamic, Jonas learned Portuguese, Rocky learned Finish, and Tom picked Norwegian. And three other languages, mostly some Native American dialects or African languages."

"Have them teach each other those languages so they all know the same ones. Then instruct them to learn 8 more by the end of the week. I want to have them ready to confront Ian and the wielder by the time she is scheduled to return to work. Her vacation lasts until next Thursday. I want them ready to go after her Friday afternoon. I want my property back." He paused a moment, the glass inches from his lips. "Oh, and make sure they understand that while I want her dead, I want her body intact and as unharmed as possible. As for Ian or any other with her, I don't care what they do. But I need Pezzini's body in 1 piece and most of her blood still inside her body." He waved the doctor off, and leaned back, drinking deeply of his brandy.

Hanes nodded and after resetting the board for their next game and placing his glass on the bar where the other servants would find and clean it, he left the office heading towards his lab, wanting to study the brain patterns of the clones while they slept. He'd noted some odd activity that confused him. It looked almost like surfacing memories, but that wasn't possible as the only memories they should have were of the week they'd been alive.

He had a theory that it might be some type of memory from the genetic donors of the mutant genes he'd worked into the Nottingham structures. But that shouldn't be possible unless the xgene allowed for a transfer of genetic memory of a level unseen in higher order organisms.

If that was the case, then if those memories came out at the wrong time, the clones could break through the conditioning and go agaisnt orders. He had to learn if it was surfacing memories or just random spikes of neural activity. His life depended on it.

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Well another chapter done in my sadly ignored story. I hoped you liked it. I did.


	10. Chapter 10

Here's Ch10 of my Xmen/Witchblade xover. I want to thank the few people who have taken the time to review this story.

Rogue is from the South (Mississippi) and has a southern accent which I don't even want to try and write. Same with Piotr and his Russian/ Slavik accent. I might give small glimpse, but use your imaginations to get the real voice. with C.Park as the subject line.

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"Is the test subject ready?" Irons asked as he took his seat in the observation booth. Far below him, the cloned warriors waited patiently for their final test.

Dr. Hanes finished his conversation with his underlings before turning to his employer. He took the PalmPilot from the lackey and sent him on the way. He verified the data on the device before passing it to Irons who took it and barely gave it a glance. Hanes was not fooled by the apparent disinterest, having studied his master carefully in the short time since his ascension to Irons side. He had no doubt that the younger looking man had memorized the entire data on the device as well as all the reports that had recreated those data bases.

"They are just finalizing a few preparations on the subject. Apparently he was injured during the capture, and manage to injure several of the team sent to retrieve him. It seems that Mr. Lensher underestimated his desire to live free as well as his skills in battle. All of which works better for us, since he will prove a more significant challenge for our little team." Hanes stated calmly without glancing to the other seated figure, who tensed at his words.

"Now, Doctor, I am sure that Magnus meant no ill when he gave the statistical data on the subject. Perhaps something has happened in the subject's life that has affected his aggression levels. It matters not. Magnus assures me that the subject will offer a challenge worthy of my troops. The subject is a former member of the Xmen and various teams of that nature, and has battled and helped defeat the Brotherhood on several occasions."

"And what are his special abilities?" Irons asked, again not referencing the file he had likely memorized, but playing his role to the hilt for their guests.

"The man is a feral type, with slightly enhanced senses, less so then Nottingham, a strength factor and healing factor, and can conduct electricity over his body and through his hands. The electrical energy he generates is potentially lethal, though it has a relatively low amperage and high voltage. Mainly it disables an enemies motor functions temporarily, allowing the subject to escape or otherwise finish the fight. He is a dark green, nearly blackish color, with almost scaly skin. His eyes and hair are red, and his fingers have black tipped claws instead of fingernails. He masses roughly 450 lbs. and stands at just under 7 feet tail upright. Due to the reverse nature of his knees and elongated feet/ankles, he walks in a crouch and moves equally skillfully on four limbs as two. If not for the fact that he had no body hair, and a practically normal facial appearance, he greatly resembles the commonly accepted traits given to the werewolf. Except that his skin is more like a snake or eel's then a mammals and he only has hair on his head. No body hair at all." Hanes described dryly, not affected the appearance of the subject. He'd seen far worse in his years working for Irons, even before the Nottingham's defection.

"Any weaknesses or non physical gifts?" Irons asked again for the benefit of his guests.

"He has none of the mental mutations, but has a keen intellect. Nothing in the range of mutants like Hank McCoy, but definitely far beyond the human baselines. No special mechanical or electronic ability. Basically, he's like a sponge. He has near perfect recall. No special training in any particular area. Has a moderate level of skill in combat, equivalent to someone nearing black belt in two or three martial arts, and a competent armed soldier. No where near the levels of training given the team, but enough to make him a challenge to test their limits. On a singular basis, he could likely defeat on, possibly even two, of the team, but against the full team he stands no chance of winning."

"So in your opinion, he's good enough to make them sweat and work at beating him, but not quite capable of defeating the team?" the figure in the chair next to Irons asked, having tired of waiting quietly.

As previously instructed, Hanes ignored that the guest had asked the question and directed his answers to Kenneth. "That is my opinion based on the simulations and test data currently on hand."

The guest grinned and leaned forward, revealing her face to the light. Blue eyes flashed as the scantily clad, blonde haired woman studied the team with a chilling expression on her exceptionally beautiful face. "Then let us begin." she stated in her near frozen voice, an embellishment she affected to suit her given name.

It was Irons who replied, taking the time to study her statuesque figure and the generous display of cleavage covered only barely by the white furred outfit. "Of course Ms. Frost. Anything for some one as . . . charming as you." he finished with a raised eyebrow and another glance of appreciation at her ample charms.

Emma Frost gave a small smile and slid back in the chair until her face was again clouded by shadows. Men were such foolish things, she thought to herself while using her own gifts to block out the waves of thoughts directed at her from the two hormone ridden men ogling her form. Show a little skin, act like you find them even the slightest bit attractive, and they'll roll over backwards and run to do your bidding. I didn't even use any of my gifts.

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The trio were in excellent spirits as they made their way up the stairs to Sarah's loft. They'd had a great day, and while it wasn't all that late, it had been rather draining. They'd walked more then either of the teens were used to, and even more then Sarah usually did in one day. Wandering the attractions at the circus for a few hours, playing a few of the games, and even winning some prizes. Then the show at the Big Top with the most amazing acrobats and gymnastic displays Sarah had ever seen. Even Marie had been impressed and she'd seen Kurt going through his practice routines in the danger room.

Piotr had been like an overgrown child the entire trip, pointing out various attractions and acts that he remembered from his experience as a child. He'd talked the handlers into letting them 'backstage' and into the cage areas the animals were kept and they'd had a ball being able to actually get close enough to touch some of the animals. Sarah's favorites had been the Siberian tigers, with their white fur and black markings. They had such a calm, gentle look in their eyes, as though they were amused by what was going on around them and were only granting the humans a favor by remaining in the cages that were supposed to hold the potentially dangerous animals. There was an aura around them that reminded her of Ian, and for the first time, she'd been able to consider the man without any of the negative distractions that usually interfered in her attempts to understand the enigmatic man. She'd felt none of the fear or loathing she'd formerly held towards the one time assassin. She'd been able to think of him simply as a man, one with rather specialized and highly diverse skills, but a man none the less and not simply a tool used by Irons to weed out his competition and perform his less reputable tasks.

Nottingham had committed many crimes in his years of slavery to Irons, and by all rights she should be doing everything in her power to bring him in and put him behind bars for the rest of his unnatural life. But instead, she was trying to think of ways to get him to help her bring down Irons and place the blame for his past actions on the man who had bred him and been brainwashing him since his very birth. She had seen Nottingham trying to fight the training forced on him by the twisted being who he'd always considered as a father figure. She understood now that, for the most part, he hadn't enjoyed what he'd been ordered to do by his master.

She'd also seen him obey orders that most sane or decent people would have refused. Murders that remained unsolved that she knew he'd committed. Thefts and break ins that she knew he'd been responsible for. But it all went back to Irons and his perverse attempts to gain control of any even potentially mystical item or source of spiritual power. With the occasional mundane business dealing, both legal and illegal. She suspected that Irons had his hands in more illicit trafficking then she'd been able to track. She knew that he was using the cover of Vorshlag's military contracts to experiment in human genetics and cloning, as well as working the arms trade, both the minor local trade and the large international trades, all of it illegal. She also suspected that Irons was behind the increased drug traffic and the influx of under age and foreign prostitutes from Eastern Europe and Southern Asian countries.

Ian had admitted that Irons had tweaked his body by force feeding him a variety of drugs and gene coding techniques using machines that were so advanced, most of the world considered even their concept to be science fiction. Machines capable of altering a person's genetic makeup, granting specific abilities or weaknesses as the controllers of the operations dictated.

She shook her head as they reached the door to her loft and she had to juggle the stuffed animals and other prizes that had been won at the circus. Surprisingly, each of the three had won a near equal amount of prizes at the various games. Sarah had excelled at the marksmanship games, while Piotr had been a force among the strength tests. Marie had surprised them all with her accuracy at the various target games, hardly ever missing a throw, whether it was darts at stars/balloons or rings around bottles.

Piotr had the honor of the largest single prize when he'd out-lifted the circus strongmen during a Test of Strength open challenge while Marie had the most individual prizes. Sarah had won the most expensive prize, a boxed set of pistols used by John Wayne that had been donated to the circus as prize for their Sharpshooter prize. There was an signed letter from Wayne to the former owner of the circus, who had also been a movie buff back in the 50's and 60's and had collected many props used in some of the most famous movies of the time. They'd been valued at a little over $50000, though one avid collector had been rumored to offer more then $250000 for them, as they had also been used by Gary Grant.

They eventually, between the three of them, managed to open the door and let themselves in, only to drop the plush toys and other prizes on the table and sofa in the living room area. They collapsed onto the limited space left, and Sarah took the voucher for her big prize from her jacket pocket. The guns were currently being held in custody at a private auction house, and the voucher was the proof of ownership transfer that they would need to let Sarah take possession of the collectibles. Or for her to authorize their sale.

"I'm gonna need a better safe." she thought out loud, trying to decide what to do with her new possessions.

Marie giggled and Piotr chuckled as they pawed through the various animals, trading each other for personal family favorites. Marie didn't think she'd keep any of them, except the small foot long plush wolverine, but there were plenty of kids at the school and the nearby community that would enjoy receiving them as gifts. Piotr was shifting through for some to send to his sister and other relatives back home.

"So you gonna keep 'em?" the brunette asked while mentally labeling a wild haired koala for Jubilee and a white unicorn for Kitty. The Asian girl had been found in Australia after running away from her foster parents there and hiding out at a series of shopping malls between Sydney and Canberra. She still had something of an Australia fetish and collected almost anything to do with the 'Great Down Under.' The unicorn was something of a joke, as Kitty's mother had decorated her room with unicorns as a child and the then teen hated them. Her mother refused to allow her to change any of the wallpaper and artwork and figurines in the room, so Kitty took great private pleasure in using a stuffed unicorn as a punch toy when she was annoyed with some boy or school problem. Her last one, sent to her by her mother, had weighed as much as she did and stood three feet tall at the back. It was starting to fall apart, and the horn and tail had long since been torn off.

"I am thinking about it." the older woman confessed as she stood and went over to her small kitchen. She got to the door of the fridge before remembering that she hadn't had a chance to go grocery shopping yet, but opened it any way. A twinge of excitement went through her when she noted the fully stocked fridge. She damped down the excitement and pulled out three cans of Coke before slapping the door closed. She took a discrete look into her shelves to see that they too had been restocked while they were out. That could mean only 1 thing: Nottingham was back in town. He and Logan must already be set up in the other building.

She returned to her young friends and handed each a can. "I remember watching John Wayne and Gary Grant, Gary Cooper, and all those guys with my father. The old serials on TV. Those guns were actually in those movies and used by those actors. My dad would have gone nuts to be able to even see them in person, let alone own them and possibly hold them."

"My dad and I used to watch some things together." Marie stated, giving the first bit of her family past to someone other then Logan. "We were pretty close before my powers hit. I think that's part of why he was so angry. He had always loved me and taught me that mutants were against the laws of God, so when it turned out I was a mutant, he just couldn't handle me any more. My mother sort of tried to understand, but she wasn't very good at it. So one day, after my dad got drunk and tried to beat me for being a mutant, I gathered some clothes and all the money I had saved and headed north to Alaska."

Piotr nodded. "When I was working the farm one day, our work horse died while pulling the plow. I was alone in the field an no one could hear me. I had to unhook the horse and while struggling with it's weight, I just kept wishing I was stronger, that I could move the horse. Then the horse flips up into the air off the ground and lands ten feet away. I feel a coldness start creeping over my skin and I felt my bones shifting. I was soon looking at my hand at this weird metal like plating moved down my arm and I grew larger. I was not a small child, but the form I am now as Colossus is the same as it was then when I was but 12. I had grown more then 2 feet taller and three times as heavy in minutes."

"I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I can't really feel all that bad for you. Aside form some arrogant arseholes who have their heads stuck up their own asses, you, and mutants in general, have gifts that most normal people would love to have. Though I can understand why you might want to be 'normal', secretly every normal person wants to have a few special gifts. Maybe not some of the extreme changes some have undergone, but at least the healing, strength, telepathy mutations are things most people would love to have. They don't see the downside to them. I know I didn't understand before I got stuck with my little gift." she jangled the bracelet on her arm, the eye flaring with a pulse of red light at the motion. "Don't get me wrong, I've learned to accept that I'm not going to have a normal life. The blade can be a pain in the ass with the visions and the weirdness that it's brought into my life, but it's also helped me save more people then I would have without it. I was and am a good detective, but the with the blade giving me visions of crimes, I can catch people BEFORE they hurt others instead of after they hurt people."

"My family was frightened, but not as frightened as I." Piotr continued, understanding clear even with his accent. "We were in a rural part of Russia and did not know of mutants. I was first in village. They thought I was monster and shot at me and threw pitchforks and rocks and even spears but all just bounced off the plating on my body. It was Illiyana who was first to accept me after I run and hide in our barn. She find me and told me she still loved me, even though I changed. Once I hear this, I change back to old self, only I remain as I am now. All grown into man, but still mortal. Until I learn to call back gift and become stronger and indestructible. We have found nothing that can get through the metal skin. When I am in that form, I don't need breath or eat, but it takes great energy to change, and so can't do it often or for long times."

"My mutation is a curse. I suck other people into my head. With mutants I get their powers as well as memories and personalities. It knocks them out, but they do recover. For humans, if I hold on too long there is not recovering. I take everything. All their memories, thoughts, ideas. Their entire personality and all their quirks becomes mine. And it hurts. It's painful for the person I touch, and it doesn't feel good for me either."

"That is horrible. You'd think that whatever power was guiding the world would at least make it so that it didn't hurt you!" Sarah stated, getting a better understanding of what the younger woman went through each time someone came in contact with her skin. "And you can't touch any one? No part of your body is touchable?"

Marie sighed and looked down, rubbing the can between her gloved hands. "No. MY entire body is like this, and there's no one who is immune. As long as it's skin to skin, I will drain them. I . .. it's ... . It's even possible I could kill someone if I held on too long. It's almost happened a few times with Logan."

"So if it's skin to skin, can you touch Piotr? And what about those kids I saw covered in fur?"

Marie gave Piotr a look before shrugging and turning back to Sarah. "The kids are find, but I don't know about Piotr. And as much as I like him, I don't really want anyone else bouncing around in my head unless I have to."

"Let's hope nothing serious enough to force you to try happens while you're here." Sarah stated, finishing her can and setting it down next to a plush figure of Disney's fox Robin Hood. She had wanted the Nottingham figure to throw at the namesake, but the last one had been given to a boy who was there with the Children's Wish foundation. Apparently, the animalized version of the story of Robin Hood was the boy's favorite movie, and he had collected all the plush toys, but had been missing the Nottingham and Little John figures which he'd won at the games. She glanced out at the window at the fire escape and was not surprised to see a flash of black material disappearing just beyond her eye line.

Surprisingly, having Ian back in his customary place on her fire escape gave her a sense of peace and belonging. A feeling that all was right with the world, thanks to her personal stalker slash former assassin watching over her as she relaxed in the comfort of her own home.

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So how was it? Good bad indifferent?


	11. Chapter 11

Here's Ch11 of my Xmen/Witchblade xover. I want to thank the few people who have taken the time to review this story.

Rogue is from the South (Mississippi) and has a southern accent which I don't even want to try and write. Same with Piotr and his Russian/ Slavik accent. I might give small glimpse, but use your imaginations to get the real voice.

Here's a little (lot) of Xmen Mutant history according to my own beliefs from what I've read/heard/seen of Xmen and what I want to have happened:

The one called Apocalypse was either the first or one of the first Mutants. He originated (according to XMen:Evo) in ancient Egypt. Stuff happened, he was locked away.

Various people off and on devoloped abilities beyong human norm. These were Proto Mutants and are the basis for most of the myths and legends regarding goblins, elves, vamps, weres, etc... They aren't considered homo superiors as they were genetically unstable and unable to procreate or pass on their own genes, though there might have been large numbers of individuals with similar mutations, making it seem like there were 'races'.

These PM's continued until the first Modern Mutants were born and grew. These two were Logan and Creed, with a few others not long after, but none with their longevity. What separated them from the ProtoMutants was that there were no outward signs of differences between then and homo sapien. Their genetic material was stable, and while the 'vamp' and 'were' class PM could pass on their mutations to man, their mutations were their own and could not be transmitted except through conception.

Then came several successive generations of mutants(outcasts, sterile, often driven mad by their gifts, these are the witches, madmen of the times), slowly growing in numbers until Mystique was born.

Time of Birth:

Apocalypse-3200BC

Logan(roughly)-sometime late 1700's

Creed-early 1800's mid 1800's

Mystique-1880's, first Modern Mutant born with powers instead of developing during puberty

Magneto-1925, first occurance of powers 1937

Xavier-1928, first obvious occurance 1940

Then series of births as mutants slowly start to grow in numbers to current time.

Magneto mets Xavier in 1945 at Oxford University.

Logan/Creed- meet in mid 1800's and join together, run together for years until Creed betrays Logan and they swear eternal vengeance on each other. Creed was Jack the Ripper. Stopped when Logan tracked him down after being left to die by Creed in Arctic.

Mystique (in disguise)-meets Creed in 1911. Has already had two children by this time, one of whom is Peter Parker's Grandfather(which is how he survives radioactive bite) and the other is Morph's grandmother. Travels with Creed until 1912, when they get in fight with Logan on their passenger ship that sinks Titanic

-meets Logan in 1905, stay together for 3 years until she learns of pregnancy and leaves him without telling him about child, who is PP grandfather.

-meets Magneto/Xavier in 1949 in guise of wife of a German Baron they sought funding from, she later gave birth to the Baron's child, who was born in 1953 and is known as Nightcrawler.

-1960, she, Logan, and Creed reunite and put aside differences to fight together as part of covert team. Team is called for various assignements over course of next 15 years (genetic samples and tests done prior and post each mission to all team members.) before Logan is taken for Weapon-X project in 1975.

-1977 Magneto/Xavier have fight that causes them to end friendship

-1980 Logan escapes Weapon-X facility and is found by early members of Alpha Flight. Joins for a time before becoming disatisfied with leadership and strikes out on his own.

-1981 Mystique gives birth to Marie(Rogue), gives her up for adoption as she is contacted by Magneto to aid him begin preparations for a series of crimes that fund his research, she doesn't remember anything about pregnancy except that one minute she was going to her handler to get information for a mission and the next she's giving birth and then has to give up the child.

-1995 Marie's mutation kicks in, few months later, she overhears parents talking about her and adoption, feels lost and runs

-1997 Logan runs into Marie in bar in northern Alberta. Later same day, meets Xmen.

in my timeline/verse, Mystique has had 5 children. Kurt Wagner(Nightcrawler), Marie ?(Rogue), David Parker (Peter's grandfather), Sara Jones(Morphs' Grandmother), and one other, not sure who yet.

so that's a rough timeline/history of my particular XMen Universe that I'm using. You might wonder why I took the time to write this all out, but some of it may come into play later. especially the history between Logan/Mystique/Marie/Creed. I wanna work some of that in, maybe have Irons' psychic Nottingham clone restore all of Logan's memories during a battle, making him pretty much useless for a bit. Mystique and Creed's minds are also messed with, so they show up and have their memories restored. Maybe a Mystique/Rogue moment where somehow, Rogue's shirt gets ripped and Mystique recognizes a birthmark and it clicks that Rogue is her daughter. After that, all her memories start coming back, and all the things she's done, just to find a life she could live and have a family. In my verse, her driving instinct is to protect her children. And thanks to the warped way she was raised and the time spent with Creed/ Magneto skewered her morals. She's not evil, just a person wanting to have a safe world for her children. with C.Park as the subject line.

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"So what we going to do tonight?" Logan asked as he and Nottingham sat in the darkened apartment. There was very little furnishings, most of it threadbare and falling apart. There was no electricity in the building, nor was there any heat or water. Logan had thought ahead and brought a battery powered cooler and some dry foods that they could eat while they continued their surveillance of Sara's apartment.

At the moment, the apartment across the alley was dark, as Sara and the teens had gone to bed for the night nearly an hour before. They'd gotten back a couple of hours before, had a pizza delivered and spent some time chatting and watching movies before deciding to get some sleep. Logan's mutation had allowed him to listen in on the conversation, which was less then 40 feet from the window he was looking out. He'd been surprised to find that Nottingham was also following the conversation, and had raised an eyebrow in query to the younger man, but Nottingham had simply shrugged and gestured that it wasn't the time to answer questions.

"I am going to stay here and watch Lady Sara's loft in case Irons or Dante try something." Nottingham stated in his customary dry tones. "I care not what you do, so long as you do not interfere in my duty to protect Lady Sara."

Logan snorted and moved away from the window, pausing to grab a bottle of water from the cooler. He took a deep draft of the bottle and then a wiff of the room to familiarize himself with the environment. Something about being here alone with Nottingham was bothering him and he was trying to piece together what was tickling his senses. Sara had told him that Nottingham had been raised by Irons and undergone unknown number of genetic therapy and drug enhancement proceedures to increase his body and mind's capabilities. Yet there was something wrong with Nottingham's scent.

Logan's sense of smell was more advanced then anyone knew. Not only could he track and identify individual pheromone traces, but he was able to differentiate between mutants and normal humans. There were slight differences in the odors produced by people affected by the so called X-Gene then those produced by someone without the gene. Nottingham stunk of the X-Gene, but it was not as blatant as that left by most mutants he had encountered. There was something masking the odor, an overlay of scents that he couldn't quite place. He'd been around enough artificially enhanced beings to know the most common scents of gene splicing and drug enhancements, but Nottingham smelled of nothing he'd ever encountered. It was obvious to him that Nottingham was a natural mutant, who's X-Gene had been artificially altered by some means he didn't even want to think about.

Whatever drug treaments and gene therapies Nottingham supposedly was put through, must have been designed as a cover of his mutant abilities. By forcing the young Nottingham to undergoe the treatments and proceedures, they set in his mind a sense of debt and gratitude in his developing psyche that would later on cement his loyalty to the person who had giving him his 'gifts'. Because if the abilities had been given by treatments, then there was a chance they could be taken away if he disobeyed his benefactor. Whereas if they were a natural a part of his being as his arms and eyes, then he owed the person nothing for teaching him to control the gifts and use them to enforce his other training. Make him blindly loyal and obedient to Irons' every command.

Logan snorted and wondered who Nottingham's parents must have been. His memory might be fuzzy, but even he knew that the mutant population was extremely low up until the late 70's early 80's when for some reason, mutants started popping up everywhere. Nottingham's parents, or at least one of them, must have been some of the first mutants around. He didn't really know how old he was, or even Creed, but he had learned that they'd been alive and fighting back in the 1880's. He assumed that he and Creed were among the first true mutants, at least those to survive long enough to learn what they were. He rather thought that a lot of the old stories about vampires and werewolves were simply early mutants that were somehow able to pass their mutations on through some type of venom they produced. He didn't include these protomutants when thinking of the origins of himself and Creed. Much like how modern humans didn't like to consider Cro-Magnon man as part of their family tree.

He finished his drink and tossed the empty bottle into a box they'd set aside for garbage. He studied the other man for a moment, just making an imprint in his mind of the other's body language and general physical aura. He wanted to be able to identify the man through those little physical quirks of movement and posture that every one but were different for every person. No matter how good a shapeshifter was, he'd only met one who'd ever fooled him, and he had other ways to recognize Mystique if she showed up. But he didn't doubt that Irons had enough funds at his disposal to possibly contract some of the other rogue mutants that might not be part of the brotherhood, but weren't exactly fans of the Xmen either. There were hundreds of mutants who used their abilities to make fast money and that often meant becoming mercenaries or hired muscle for the upper crust of society who didn't want their misdeeds to be broadcast.

Logan turned away and looked around. The room they were in was pretty bare, with nothing to really distract them from their job of watching Sara's apartment. The downside was there was nothing to do to fill the time. He withheld a sigh and instead tried to focus more intently on the memories he held of Sara and her father. It was rare that he came across good memories when the occassional piece of his past fell loose. It felt good to learn something good about his past.

With little else to do except relive his memories, he took out a deck of cards and started a game of solitare using the cooler as a table. He trusted his senses to detect anything unusual coming from the apartment across the short alley. Besides, he could hear Nottingham's breathing and heartbeat and if anything happened, those would increase.

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Sara sighed and threw back the blankets, giving up on getting any more sleep that night. 'Well, morning really.' she thought to herself glancing at the nearest clock which showed almost 6am. She moved quietly through the loft, not wanting to wake either of her guests. She started upt the coffee machine and rooted through the fridge for a snack, again feeling gratitude towards her stalker for filling her grocery list. She'd propably have either gained 15-20 pounds eating fast food all the time or starved to death on some unhealthy diet.

Grabbing a piece of pepporoni, she chopped a few slices onto some bread, added some salami and ham, then found some spicy italian sausage and added that. She added some spicy dijon, and topped it off with some romaine lettuce. She placed her sandwich on a plate, and took out a block of cheese. She sliced off a few pieces, and added them to the plate before placing the meat and cheese back into the fridge and grabbing a small juice box to drink while waiting for the coffee.

She turned on the radio in the kitchen, keeping the volume low not to bother anyone else. She might still be on vacation, but she wanted to know what was happening incase some of her cases had developed during her absence. There was a bit about Kenneth Irons hiring new bodyguards after firing his former head of security. Then it went into a few local news matters, mainly small accidents, a fire or three, nothing unusual for a city of several million. The national news came up next and aside from another call to have the president call for an early election, nothing stood out there. Even the international news blurbs were quiet.

She finished her sandwich and juice just as the coffee finished brewing. She heard some stirring in the living room and poured two cups just in time as one of her young guests staggered into the kitchen area.

"Morning, Pietro. Sleep okay?" she asked, silently asking him if he wanted the second cup. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then nodded and carefull took the mug in his massive hand. Sara was amazed that someone his size was barely 17 years old, and yet without a great deal of concentration, he'd crush bone and bend steal with the simplest of gestured. His life was a model of control, as even without transforming into his metallic form he was strong enough to bench press a VW bug. He had to force himself to limit his strength while doing such every day tasks as eating, brushing his teeth, and even typing or reading were exercises in control for the gentle giant.

"Ja, I sleep well, danke." the Russian teen stated as he downed the coffee with a grimace. "Not my normal drink, but I think for today, it is good."

Sara quirked an eyebrow at the teen. "Not a coffee drinker? I'm addictied to the stuff myself. I'm usually not this coherent in the mornings without at least three cups in me."

"I prefer a cup of tea in the morning, though on the farm, I would drink coffee like all my comrades. A cup of tea with mother and Iliyana before starting chores, then coffee during the day with the other men."

Sara grinned, and poured herself a second cup, she heard the shower start up, and guessed that her other guest was feeling in need of freshining up before facing the day. "So what do we do today?"

"Are the Rangers or Islanders in town?" Marie asked, drying her hair wit ha towel and coming out of the bathroom dressed in a robe. "Logan would have a cow if I got to a game before he did this year."

Sara shrugged. She wasn't much of a hockey fan. She prefered basketball and baseball her self. "Not sure, it should say in the TV guide on the coffee table. Anyone want breakfast? I had a sandwich, but I can whip up some eggs and bacon?"

"Actually, a sandwich sounds good. Mind if I root through the fridge and fix a couple for me and Piotr? I've been in KP enough to know what he likes on his, and while I'm doing that you or he can grab a shower." Marie said, drapping the towel over the back of a stool and moving into the small space of the kitchen, automatically adjusting her body position to limit any chance contact between her and Sara.

Sara moved around the other side of the counter, giving hte teen more room to rifle the contents of the fridge. "I'll grab a shower first, if that's okay with you, Piotr? I feel a little grimmy after the circus last night."

"Ja, comrade. I shall enjoy Rogue's excellent kitchen skill and discuss with her some of the problems Dr. Grey assigned in maths before we met. I having problems with maths and sciences. Am good at arts and history, but not good at . . . vat is term?"

"not sure, sugar." Marie stated as she pulled out some ingredients and set them on the counter. "I know that you're good at remembering things and with creative thinking and stuff, but it's the others, uh, I think abstract reasoning? Math, science, stuff like that were it's more about using a set rule to find a problem than just remembering it or finding it in your own way."

Piotr just shook his head. "I just know I no understand what the professor means when she speaks of the problems."

Marie chuckled, finished making her sandwich before starting on two massive constructions for her friend. "Can't help you there, suga'. Not too good at math, maself. Not too bad at Chemistry, since you have something there to work with, but pure math? Not a chance."

"Ah vell, I just ask Kitty when we go home, ja?"

Marie grinned as the shy Russian bit into his sandwich to hide his blush. The whole school knew that the poor guy had it bad for the Chicago valley girl. The only ones who didn't seem to know where Kitty herself and Scott, who had about as much emotional sensitivity to any non Jean relationship as Logan had manners. Meaning almost non existence. Scott only noticed Jean, and those who interacted with Jean, and pretty much was oblivious to the other relationships in the mansion.

Sara finished her shower and dried off in the bathroom. She moved into her room to grab some clothes, noting that Piotr and Marie were on watching the CartoonNetwork and discussing which was the best cartoon feline. Rogue seemed to think that Heathcliff was often over looked, while Piotr seemed to be firmly in the corner of Garfield.

After finishing dressing she came out to find that the pair still hadn't settled the arguement and where giving evidence to make their case. She sighed, reached between the two to grab the remote and turned off the TV, silencing the annoying jittery animation. The two teens glared at her for a moment in disbelief as she moved over to get her coat.

Slipping it on, she sighed as she realized that they were both still there. "Look, it's 10 am. Let's get out of here for a while. We can visit a few museums or something. Maybe tour RadioCity." The two sighed and moved over, grabbing their own jackets. She ushered them out the door and locked it behind them. As she turned to lead the way down the stairs, she called over her shoulder.

"Besides, every one knows that Felix is the best animated cat. Garfield and Heathcliff couldn't tweak his whiskers. Though Jerry is a close second with Sylvester easily sliding into third." She grinned at the choked laughter that burst into the air behind her. 'Got them.'

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Logan chuckled as he listened to the debate between Marie and Piotr. He couldn't remember either of the cats they were talking about, and doubted he'd ever watched anything with them in it, though he did have a secret joy in watching the Cartoon Network and Nick at Night back at the mansion. Especially since he could chase use his rep to chase everyone out of the room with the big screen and use his hearing and to track people nearing so that he could switch to some random sporting event he didn't really give a damn about.

Nottingham frowned as the other man's laughter again interupted his attempts to connect to Lady Sara's emotional state. He could see her through the windows preparing to leave, speaking with the youths under her command, but could not quite make out what was being said. His hearing was good, and before he'd met Logan he would have said superb, but even he could not hear what was said in an apartment 100 feet away, over the noises of the street traffic and blaring televisions and radios in the apartments nearby. For the first time in his life, he felt. . . inferior. It was clear that Logan could hear what was being said by the Wielder and the youths, but he could not. He could not remember the last time he had failed to accomplish a task he'd set for himself, or had someone perform a task he could not complete.

Despite himself, he felt curiosity rise within him and was almost forced to speak. "Can you hear what the Lady Sara and her charges are discussing?" he asked reluctantly.

Logan looked over at the other man, ready to brag about his abilities while deriding Nottingham's lack there of. The tense self-loathing expression on the other man's face caused him to reconsider, not something he did often. "Yeah, but I've had a lot of years to practice. I might only really remember the last 15 or so, but I'm guessing from some of my memories that I've had at least 100 years to work on controlling them and working to make them stronger. I'm guessing that as I got older, my abilities started getting stronger. I have a clear memory of getting shot in WW1, not sure who I was fighting for, but I remember being shot. Took a few hours to heal completely. Now, I get shot, and I heal up in a few minutes, if not faster. Same with my senses."

Ian frowned. He'd noted in private a similar effect on his own gifts. His senses were becoming sharper, his speed and strength seemed to be increasing instead of leveling off, and his connection to the Wielder grew stronger. He had always though that it was simply an effect of the willing bonding of the Wielder to the Blade, but after hearing Logan's description of his abilities, he suspected there might be a different source. What if the experiments he'd under gone as a child were only the beginning and that he would soon undergoe another 'puberty' as it were? He dearly wished he could find the answers, but the only answers that existed were those created and guarded by Irons, and Ian would never willfully return to that man for any thing. Even for he knowledge of who and what he truly was. Any future intercation between him and Irons would only come about if Irons continued his pursuit of the Wielder. And Irons had better hope that whatever he crafted as a replacement for Ian Nottingham know that not even death would stop the knight from protecting his lady.

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Well, I hope you're liking the story. Sorry for the long delays. Lsot my job and kinda went blah on everything for a while. Not the longest chapter, and a lot of AN at the start, hopefully some of you read it and will comment on the little 'verse I'm creating. Hoping to have some type of confrontation next chapter, not sure if Xmen/Brotherhood/misc mutant or SaraIan/IronsGroup.


	12. Chapter 12

Finally another chapter of Xmen ad Witchblade xover.

PLEASE READ NOTES AT END FOR NOTICES 

I own nothing but my idea of how to merge these worlds.

Enjoy.

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Logan grunted in annoyance as he stumbled on the loose roof top gravel. He and Nottingham were trailing their prey from the rooftops in order to avoid any prying eyes. They had many enemies and this whole trip was somewhere between a trap and a fact finding mission.

A brief blur of lights and noise caused the huntes to pause and drift into te shadows near the edge of the roof. They watched as their prey were approached and halted by a marked police cruiser. Logan's eyes narrowed and he sensed Nottingham shift closer. The conversation below was as clear to them as if they'd been seated in the car themselves.

"Hey Pez. How's the vacation?" a young male voice called from inside the cruiser.

Sara leaned against the side of the car, looking in. A surge of frustration passed through her when she recognized the second occupant of the car. 'Of course Dante would pair Jake with his #1 goon. They're still trying to sign him up in the Bulls.'

"Not bad Jake. My cousin and his friend are visitting from their upstate boarding school. Marie, Pete, meet my partner, Jake McCarty and his ride along, Officer Orlinsky. How the two of you doing? Any interesting cases?"

"Forget it Pez, you know the rules. No talking cases to vacationing personnel." Jake stated with a grin, discreetly eyeing the teens. Beside him, Orlinksy grunted in agreement. Unlike Jake, he made no attempt to hide his open assessment of the pair.

"What kind of boarding school?" the older detective asked in a false attempt at friendliness.

Marie replied before Sara Could, her voice taking on a less distinctive accent. "It's a school for arts. Piotr is an artist and sculptor, and I'm in the performing arts curriculum."

"Performance Arts? Like acting and singing?" Jaked asked.

Marie smiled and nodded. "We have regular classes together, but everyone has a major and minor. I do piano as a minor, and major in theatre. Piotr is in Art History and sculpture."

"So you want to be on Broadway?" Orlinsky asked, showing he wasn't as stupid as he acted. Then again, as a native of New Yorker, it was seeped in that all singer/actor/dancers wanted to be stars on Broadway.

Before Marie could replay, shw found herself lifted and thrown against a nearby paper stand, the wood shaking under the impact and knocking hte breath from her lungs. Even as she crossed the short distance, she was able to see Sara also launched through the air. Though the assailant's movements were too fast for her to see, she was glad that she'd been thrown.

From the way Sara's head snapped and her body lifted into the air, it was clear that the attacker had landed a powerful upper cut to the older woman's chin. The blow was strong enough that the force carried her clear over the roof of the cruiser to land shoulder and neck first againt the edge of a downward leading stair case. Her momentum folded her at th e hips and shoulder, forcing her into a backward clip down the short staircase to land in a heap in front of a shop's door.

Piotr had seen the two woman's sudden flight but before he could move to protect either, a powerful blow fell across the back of his knees, bringing his massive frame crashing to all fours. Almost aqs soon as his arms took the impact of the fall, he felt another blow to his head, disorienting him and halting any further attempt to move. At least until he the dizzyness cleared.

Ian, seeing Sara flipped down the stairs, moved to assit her but Logan stopped him, ignoring the rage on younger man's face.

"Wait till we see what we're up against, kid." Logan stated. "We have no clue what's down there and how they did this. Sara's a tough broad. Takes more then that to put and keep her down. And Rogue and Petey are already shaking it off. We can't go barging in too soon."

Reluctantly Ian nodded, his eyes never leaving the shadowy recess of the staircase containing his beloved Sara. After a short hesitation, Logan released Ian's shoulder, turning back to the scen ten stories below.

Marie shrugged off the impact and scrambled quickly to her feet. A part of her noted that after all the danger room training, she could have risen more gracefully and shaken off the impact more readily, but another part reminded her that it might be too soon to show her true abilities. With this in mind, she rose slowly and limped over to Piotr, who was shaking his head slowly while blinking rapidly. She ignored the 2 officers as they stepped out of teh car, drawing their sidearms.

"Pete, are you ikay? What happened?" she asked, remembering to alter her voice. She winced as she felt her shoulder slipped back in place. It dislocated during the impact against the paper stand.

"Ok, I wouldn't worry about muscle boy, little girl. I'd worry about yourself first." came a voice from behind her.

Marie turned slowly, still trying to sell her injuries while praising her Logan acquired healing.

The person before them was not someone she'd ever seen, but there was something vaguely familiar about him. He reminded him about someone or a couple of someones she knew. His facial structure and white hair teased her memory with the likeness to people she'd met, but she couldn't place the feeling to any specific person or people.

"Who are you?" she asked, leaning to one side and clutching her ribs as though in pain.

"Me? I guess you could say I'm one of the new, improved models. When the weakling left, our master activated us. Only he made us more powerful then the old model?"

"So you're what, some type of clone?"

The man laughed, running his hand through his military grade crew cut. "Not quite. Nottingham is a clone. We are so much more. We are amalgamations! The combination of 2 or more genetic sources in order to create a more powerful servant for our master." He stopped talking as the distinctive sound of a cocking firearm very close to his head.

Jake held the gun tightly, his finger on the trigger and the safety off. He was currently fighting through urges, the main being to check on Pezzini. "I don't care who or what you are, but you just assaulted a police officer and two minors. You're in big shit, pal. I suffest you place you hands behing your head and drop to your knees and shut up. My trigger is a little sensative and sometimes goes off with only the slightest pressure."

"Ah, Det. McCarty, I see you're finally awake." the man stated in a nonchalant tone, as though no bothered in the slightest by the gung mere inches from his head.

"I said shut up!" Jake stated, closing the gap and pushing the barrel against the base of the pale man's skull. "Orlinsky, check on Pezzini and call for EMT's."

"What if I dont' 'shut up', Det? How can you shoot me with an empty pistol?" he again asked.

"I don't know what you're doing here or what you're on, but I loaded this gun myself." he pressed the barrel further against hte man's head.

"Really? Than where do these come from?" the pale man lifted his hand palm up, showing a gun magazine and a single shell. He turned his hand and let them fall to the ground. As every eye followed them, he moved.

Too fast for anyone to react but no where near his top speeds, he spun and knoced aside the gun, punched Jake 3 times in his sturnum and once in a powerful cross that sent him reeling, gasping for breath. A few steps away he collapsed againt the side of the cruiser. The pale man continued to move at the same rate, flicked a lighter, causing a burst of flame to go flying towards the other detective.

Orlinsky flinched back and dove to the side, his body burrying itself into a pile of grabage. It wasn't quite quick enough, as he was singed by the fireball that slamed into the wall of the building behind him, and begun melting the brick facade. He glanced quickly at teh wall and gulped, seing how close he'd come to being a pile of ash.

The attacker turned to face Marie and Piotr, who had been able to rise to their feet as he focused on the officers.

"That takes care of the potential threats. Now it's time to play with the kiddies." his smile widdened into a grin.

Marie huffed and moved forward, having already removed her gloves. "I don't know how you got St. John's power, but we 'kiddies' won't be as entertaining as you think." she stated in a growling tone, her fingers clenching and unclenching in unconcious mimickery of Logan as he fought for control and to restraing releasing the claws. Behind her, Piotr stood to his full 6'8" height, throwing off the oversized jacket he'd been wearing to reveal his powerful form. HIs muscles rippled as ne tensed and brought his arms to a ready position. Even though he held back his transformation, he looked remarkably different then the person that had been trailing after Marie and Sara.

Jonas remained outwardly impassive as he watched the pair. He had noted that the dark haired youth was powerfully buil, and hunched over, but he had not expected this kind of a difference. The boy was massive and looked like he was a walking ad for bodybuilders everywhere. Next to him, the girl looked like a child. There was something about her though that made him think that she was the more dangerous of the two. A hint of a darkness in her gaze or posture that screamed danger. The animalistic growling and hand flexing were also factors. It suggested that she was looking forward to ripping into him with her bared hands,

He had noted as he followed them that hte girl had been wearing gloves all day. While there was a bit of a chill in the air, it was nothing that would make someone want to bundle up. Yet she had removed them in order to confront him. This told him that something was going on about the bared hands. He had also noted that through out the day, and from his sister's report about her stalking activities, there was a noticable lack of contact between the girl and the others. Both Pezzini and the boy had done all they could to subtletly avoid physical contact with the girl.

"So the kiddies want to play? Fine, Let's play." he stated, then sped into a blur towards them.

The world around him slowed to a crawl, then a stop. He really enjoyed these speeds, knowing that only a few could come close to seeing more then a blur, nevermind catching or fighting him. The only real draw back was that in order to control fire, he couldn't move any faster then the fastest of the Olympic level athletes.

He could see the girl and the boy and to his surprise, he could make out noticeable movement from teh pair. He'd never before seen any movement from others when he hit this speed, not even David. This was such a surprise that he slowed, and before he knew it, he ran into a huge fist. His own momentum caused his lower body to continue forward while the rest stopped on contact.

The resutl was a flip centered on the contact of face and fist. He completed 2 and a half full rotations to land on his back more then 10 feet away. The landing took his breath, and rattled his bones. Blood ran down his face from his shattered nose and jaw. He coughed up blood and teeth for a few seconds.

He lay on the ground for a moment, before rolling over and struggling to his feet. Already his injuries were healing. He knew from training that bones and skin healed quickly but teeth and cartaledge were slower to reform. He noticed that neither had moved to take advantage of his condition and he smirked internally. He knew they would be weak. They should never had let him rise to his feet. He shifted to again attack, when something caused him to look over his shoulder. What he saw froze him in place.

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Logan growled and his claws shot out with a snitk! as he watched the clone take out the detectives. He nearly leapt from the roof but Ian again restrained him. He tried to control himself but when the man started towards Marie and Piotr, he shoved Ian aside, and leapt from the roof, arms spread and claws extended.

He was barely over the ledge when he Noticed Piotr's fist had connected, and only a few feet lower when the attacker slammed into the ground. He was just about 10 feet from the ground when the clone looked over his shoulder and had already begun to move. Luckily, he only had time to turn his head and raise his leg before Logan slammed into him claws first. Logan, aided by his 350lbs metal frame, drove his claws into and threw the man's back and out his ribcage. They sliced through his lungs as easily as his ribs.

The jump combined with his weight, drove the clone to the ground. Logan rode him to the ground, his claws digging into the pavement and the underlaying dirt.

Logan withdrew his claws and stabbed them back in several times at different angles, making sure to pierce the heart and sever the spine. He could see that the man's face was already healing from Piotr's punch and realised that the clone had been given enhanced healing as well as speed and fire control. The wounds he inflicted would not kill the clone but would take him out of action for several days, and if he got medical attention soon enough to replace the energy he'd burn healing, there would be no permanent effects. Hopefully by the time he could move enough to be a hassle, the situation would be resolved completely.

He finally stood, giving the body a last kick before turning to see if Marie was all right. He was immediately confronted by Ian, his katana drawn and loosely held towards Logan. The mutant was puzzled for a moment, until he noticed three long gashes across the man's chest, and the blood slowly running from the closing wounds. He sheathed his claws and held his hands awkwardly at his sides.

"Sorry about that." he stated gruffly. "Didn't even realize I cut ya. Was too worried about that psycho hurting Marie."

Ian's stiff frame relzed slightly in understanding. He would have done the same if Lady Sara were so threatened. Inf act he had tried to do the same, but Logan had been able to hold him, whereas he could not restrain the older man. The memory of Sara's attack flashed in his mind and he didn't notice as Logan finally engulfed Marie in a hug and nodded to the large teen.

The errant knight approached the opening slowly, reluctant to see his beloved Lady injured. He was always hesitant to acknowledge that she was still prone to human frailties. Even prior to her first Wielding of the blade, she'd seemed to be beyond the normal kin. And after her survival of the Perriculum, she'd become a Goddess among mortals and he worshipped her even more. His yearning for her grew, yet he knew that his darkness would never be able to approach her light.

He froze at the first step, looking down into in surprise. There was no sign of Sara. Aside frfom the shifting od dust and debris disturbed by her sudden involvment in location, there was no sign of where she had gone. The door down there was boarded and he could see the dust and cobwebs showing it hadn't been opened in a long time.

He spun and frantically began to scan the area for her. But all he noticed was Orlinsky tring to hide under the pile of garbage bags, and Jake McCartey groggily trying to get to his feet.

He paused, took control of teh panic, and extended his senses along their bond. He almost collapsed in reliefe as he felt her through the connection. There was a great deal of pain coming through, and he fell to his knees as it surprised him. Along with the pain, there was worry and fear, thoug he knew she would never admit the later and the former would never be for him. There was also a tinge of amusement. This particular sensation grew stronger as he focussed the connection to attempt to locate his Lady.

He could tell that she was close. The connection was very strong at the moment. The only way he could tell that she wasn't next to him was that he could not see her. All his senses said she was there. That meant that she was either below him (which she couldn't be since the door hadn't been disturbed and that was the only place underground for some distance) or she was above him. He raised his head and stared in awe as he saw his beloved Lady.

He could barely contain his joy as he saw that she was alive though injured. Before he even noticed, he'd leapt up to land on the handrail of the fire escape. He stared at her for a moment, and the tenderness in her eyes was his undoing.

He stepped down from the rail to the grating, and was only dimly aware of as he closed the gap and pulled her into an embrace. He devoured her lips, not caring if she killed him as for once he wanted her to FEEL him. He paused in surprise as instead of death, she matched the passion of his kiss. Her probing tongue slid into his mouth and he felt like he would die from the pleasure she was giving him. His own slid out to duel her's as their passion grew into a raging fire.

Only their combined need for air caused them to break apart. Neither went far, pulling back just enough to gather breath, without interfering in each others breathing. Their eyes were locked together, matching pools of liquid heat. Neither spoke, unwilling to break their moment. Ian's hand came to cup her bruised cheek and she barely winced for it was already healing and looked to be at least a week old. And his touch seemed to cause it to heal for it was soon just a slightly off tinge of color.

"I am so glad you are safe, my Lady. If you had been seriously injured or killed, I would not have been able to live with my failure. I would have followed you to the next life." his voice was low, pitched for her ears only.

Sara smirked, then leaned in and gave him another soul wrenching kiss as her mind berated her for taking so long to acknowledge her need for tihs man. "I just started to accept having you in my life, Ian. I'm not letting either of us get off that easily."

She cocked an eyebrow and glanced down the lenght of their bodies. "While I'm sure I can help us fix that situation, this isn't the time or place."

Ian frowned for a moment as he followed her gaze, then blushed as he realized what she was implying. He tried to create a reply, but was too inexperienced in this or any other form of playful banter to match the boldness of her statement.

Sara grinned as she sensed her victory. "I just made one of the most dangerous men in the world blush like a schoolboy. And with a fairly tame statement at that. I can't wait to see how you react to more . . . advanced language and situations."

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Logan hugged Marie to his sid, nuzzling her hair as her head rested on his shoulder. Piotr was standing just behind them, watching the slowly twitching form of their attacker. He was a little amazed at the brutality of Logan's attack. As a young man in Russia, he had heard and been witness to some terrible events and acts so vile, he even now had nightmares. But he'd never witnessed the sheer personal brutality the likes of Logan's attack.

And yet, he could not find fault with Logan's reaction. Piotr knew not what he would do if anyone harmed or threatened his own beloved Katerina. And he had done some measure of similar violence himelse to those that had attempted vile acts against his sister.

It had become a cliche in America, but he had on one occassion torn the arms off a former KGB agent who had attempted to rape his sister. Even at a young age, her beauty marked her as a target for those who were filled with greed.

This man, this clone and mutant had tried to harm Rogue- Marie. A person he regarded as a 2nd sister. He would gladly have beaten the man to death himself, but the near emotionless way Logan dispatched of the attacker scared him more then if Logan had been raging and frothing at the mouth. It was something he would never have thought Logan capable of, with his exciteble nature and lack of control. Tearing the man in pieces while growling, roaring and laughing with bloodlust, yes. But almost surgically and calmly doign enough damage to disable the threat without killing it, never.

"We need to go." he sated as he watched the officers slowly regaining their sense. He did not wish to explainwhat had happened to the quivering body.

"You're right Pete." Sara stated, pulling away slightly from Ian's embrace. "We can't be here when Jake and Orlinsky wake up. We have no way to explain this without revealing who all of you are and all of our secrets."

Ian frowned. "I could always take the responsibility, my Lady. I ould say I was following you and your charges, and when you were attacked, I came to your defense. With the rate this man heals, no forensics could dispute that me katana and other weapons caused the injuries."

"Good of you to offer Ian, but I don't want you anywhere near the police right now. I am sure your former employer has his stooges looking for you. There's a good chance this guy was sent to try and flush us out of hiding. Iron's worst nightmare is you and I working together, and I wouldn't be surprised if he's told Dante about that little achilles heel of yours. No, right now we should hit my place. You start recording everything Iron's ever ordered you to do and some of the highlights of your childhoow with him. Then at the right time, we contact some of the big guys at the Justice Department and offer them the head of the biggest crime lord since Prince John decided it would be a good idea to take the throne and let his brother be killed because he was too cheap to pay the low ransom and too cowardly to attempt a rescue."

FLASH.

Robin frowned as she watched her beloved fade back into the shadows of the castle. She had asked him once again to return to Sherwood with her, but he had again refused, saying he was better placed as a spy against Prince John. She hated that he was forced to pretend to follow that skunk of a man, but was again enthralled by her lover's devotion to the people. His role was difficult for him to play, for in truth, he was nothing like the person he was forced to play as the Sheriff of Nottingham.

She chuckled as she looked down at the pulsing weapon attached to her wrist. "Well my friend, what will history make of us? Likely it will transform me to a man, separate my love into his real being, but female, and make the tyrant he plays into the reality of Nottingham." A red pulse, what she had come to realise was the blade's version of laughter trickled over the jewel and she nodded. "Aye, that is a likely future of our tale, is it not?"

END FLASH.

Shaking her head from the flash, Sara lead Ian over to join the others. They quickly left the area by the sidewalks while Ian and Logan hit the roof tops. No one noticed that immediately after Ian's long long tailed coat vanished over the roof's edge, a figure melted out of the shadows, watching them leave with a frown on it's face.

"I must advise the master and David that the Wielder's allies are more dangerous then he believes." the slim figure removed a device from a pouch and pressed one of the buttons. Seconds later, a large SUV pulled up, and a pair of muscled thugs exitted, looking around eagerly. "Grab him." she ordered before entering the passenger seat. "No need to be gentle. He will heal. Now hurry! The master awaits." The men shrugged, lifted the quivering bleeding mass and through it in the cargo compartment of the vehicle before taking their own seats as it sped off.

87987987

sorry that it's taking me so long to update stories now, but job is in the way. I don't have any time at work to really write and even when I do, I have to do it by hand instead of typing. Can only use internal drives at work, no jumpdrives/cds/floppies/memory sticks or outside electronic devices. cant even bring cellphon into work place, have to leave in locker.

am currently typing up the next chaps for RAvsHP (some good action), a new neko's mate story, the next State of Ours, and a new story, for the Firefly/Serenity series that's of course another xover.


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